When the Hunter Met the Lionheart
by Dorminchu
Summary: ...Things got complicated, to say the least. A reinterpretation of the events leading up to and beyond Chapter 34 of the manga. Bertholdt/Annie, Eren/Annie. Eventual Ymir/Krista and Jean/Mikasa. NEW PROLOGUE ADDED, GUYS! It's the first chapter in the list, Overture.
1. Overture

_A/N: Yes, I know what I said. I wouldn't meddle. But this section of Exoneration bugged me to no end, and I really wanted to flesh it out. Of course, I also figured that readers wouldn't want to sit through 10,000+ words of exposition, so I split up Chapter One and this. Consider it a revised prologue._

_For those of you reading this for the first time, welcome, and thanks for deciding to check this story out!_

* * *

_The Overture_

* * *

Annie's life was a simple one before the Shifters found her.

For a very good portion of her childhood she lived in isolation. There were simply no other forms of contact but her father, and perhaps the occasional curious onlooker from a safe distance. Which was preferable to her. The other kids, from her limited experience with them, were annoying and cruel to each other. It was like watching a pack of wild animals. The strongest would naturally prey on those deemed weaker, establish dominance, kill off any threats. And no one protested. It was pretty sad, if she thought about it like that. But she could understand it, at least.

In any case, their impact on her life was of little consequence. Whilst they went about their business, she was taught in the ways of self-defence. She learnt the proper way to kill a man when she was seven; and perfected it over time. Firstly, the fundamentals. An enemy was an enemy. Man or woman, formidable or weak, powerful in physical prowess or intellect, the points of weakness in a human were consistent. She was shown where to strike. How to gain the element of surprise. What to watch for, and how to respond.

She would take a knife in her small hands and her father would instruct her. There was an art to the practice, and Annie was a quick learner. But you didn't need a knife to kill a man. Fingers and teeth were supplementary. Easier. Break his neck instead, or tear out his throat, scratch at his eyes.

And there were other ways to best the enemy besides physical violence. Arrogance was easy to see. It possessed a man and made him foolish. Fear. Regret. All these and more were ready to exploit, if she knew what to say.

_You're smaller than most_, her father said. _They will dismiss you, and you will let them do this, because you will know better._

Her strongest impression of him was that he was less of a person, and more like a force. You must understand, he was not malevolent, nor was he without empathy. But he was a cold man. He didn't talk unless prompted, hardly looked her way unless they were training or doing something that demanded verbal explanation, and thus she learned to live in silence. It was a lot like living with a stranger. She was kept busy, and seldom had much time to reflect on matters that extended beyond the reaches of self-preservation. Reflection was not something which Annie excelled in, but she accepted it as a kind of necessary evil.

Still, she wondered. At daybreak, when the sky was dark and starless, if she would ever know her father as an equal. Late at night, when her body was aching and sleep would not come, if they were really of the same blood. They had the same eyes, same hair, similar facial features. Her father was a smaller man, and she was a smaller girl, but what did it matter? He could have been any other person, and she would have felt the same level of connection with him.

Sometimes, when she was younger, she would try and imagine what her mother must have looked like. There was a memory, but it was more of a wisp than a thing of substance. A voice, or a shadowy figure, its features muddled with time. It faded as she grew older.

Wondering, of course, was a fruitless endeavor. Wondering would not see her safe for another day, or teach her how to fight. Wondering for too long made her stomach twist and her chest ache, nearly as sore as her taxed body, and she avoided it hence. When avoidance was not enough, she learnt to shut out the sickness in her heart. Little by little, every night, from a very young age that she could not recall with clarity, until she felt naught but the fatigue of her muscles. And the day came when she woke up, and inside her chest there was only emptiness. The swirlings of dust.

And Annie was glad.

* * *

Her training developed in intensity as she got older. Now she must learn to dodge and jump and perfect her technique. And she did, of course. She must. But she wondered about it sometimes. She wondered what her life would lead to. If it would ever lead to anything, at all. For the first time in a long time, she felt disheartened.

Once, when she was nine, her father brought a lantern with him. He kept her going all afternoon, and then into the night, until her feet were bleeding and her legs were raw and she thought she would surely die from exhaustion. And she stopped. It was all she could do to stand.

"Again," said her father.

Annie could feel him watching her. But she wouldn't look at him. She realised this was a test. And she grit her teeth and set her bony shoulders and kicked the bag, harder. There was no grace in her violence, only defiance. Determination. She would not be the first to fall. She would not surrender to anything. The sandbag taunted her, sagging and inanimate, and she bared her teeth, a violent, predatory grin, and fell upon the figure imagined in her mind. She broke him, over and over and over, yet he would not falter. Neither would she.

Then her father spoke. "Enough."

She didn't stop at first. She didn't stop until his hand clasped her shoulder and she jumped, whirled around, wild-eyed and rife with adrenaline.

"That's enough," he repeated.

Annie stared at him. He had never ordered her to stop in the middle of a fight. Ever. She was shaking as she looked upon his face and there was nothing there to read.

Annie didn't remember fainting. She blinked and the world fell away.

She dreamt that he took her inside the house and cleaned her wounds and let her rest. And in the dream he told her this: "It's only going to be more difficult from here. But I know you will be fine. You've proven that to yourself."

The sun was high overhead when Annie woke the next day. She was still sore, and her feet were numb. But she was able to stand. She dressed and tended to her wounded feet with rags. Boots were simply out of the question — it hurt enough to walk. But this, she could tolerate. She ate her meager allotment of food in silence. She hobbled across the room and to the doorway. She had one foot outside when the voice spoke.

"Going somewhere?" She turned and her father was standing by the very same table she had just left. She hadn't noticed him. "Even you have limits," he said. "See that you acknowledge them."

There was something strange in his eyes, almost like sadness. Or pride. She could not be sure. It was the closest he'd ever come to displaying human emotion. Annie held his gaze, and it passed.

She did not tell her father about the dream, and they resumed life as if nothing had ever happened.

* * *

The year was 1844. She was ten and hardened with time and practice.

The two men showed up on a sunny day in June, clad in garments too plain to be royals, but too fine to be civilian wear. The first was older and small of stature, with greying hair and dark eyes. He much resembled a crow. The second was larger than he, dark-haired and solemn, and looked to be years younger than his companion—only a few years above her, actually. Annie had no clue as to what this strange pair wanted, but they gave off an air that kept her on the alert.

"Hello, little one," the first began, and his voice was calm and as thin as his figure. Annie stared up at the man, wary of his eyes. They shone like a wild dog's. She didn't like them. Her fingers closed tightly around the dagger in her hand. The man didn't seem to notice this. "Is your father around? I'd very much like to speak with him."

She remained where she was, tense with unease. But there were few souls who passed by their house, and fewer still who entertained conversation with her father. Perhaps this was only a very strange coincidence, but Annie wanted to think she knew better. She looked towards their house, then back to the man, and thought about calling out to her father, then decided not to. They were only men, no matter how unsettling she found them. She was the one with a weapon. She had the upper hand.

"Who are you?" she asked. The man's smile widened.

"We're just passing through. No need to look so grim, my dear."

Annie found herself liking this man less every second. She glanced over to his companion's face, and for the first time she noticed that there were faint lines that ran along his cheeks, down from the corners of his eyes, a series of white, intricate ditches. She wondered what had made them.

"This is Marcel," said the man, noticing her interest. "I'm afraid he's not very sociable. But we can't all be, can we?" He patted the boy's shoulder with a bony hand. Marcel wouldn't meet her eyes. "Ah…but I'm getting off track. Your father ― is he nearby?"

Annie nodded.

Her father was less than keen to greet them.

"What do you want?" he asked coolly.

Annie could practically feel the other man's smile in his tone. "Only to discuss your daughter, sir. I believe she's possessed of the qualities we're looking for."

Her father held the man's gaze, tone icy. "Sorry. I'm not interested." He made to close the door. The thin man gave a subtle nod, and Marcel reached forward and caught the door in mid-swing.

"I insist ― I'll have but a few minutes of your time."

Her father regarded the pair for a moment before he threw a sharp look to her. The message was clear: _Stay inside._

Annie stepped into the house and he moved past her, closing the door in his stead. Curious, she pressed her ear to the door and strained to listen. She could make out their voices.

"—afraid you're of no position to be making demands, mister Leonhardt. There is talent in your daughter, and I implore you to see this the way I do."

Her father remained imperturbable. "And what, exactly, am I supposed to be seeing?"

"Think of it as the opportunity of a lifetime, both for yourself and her."

There was a pause.

"I've no interest in your offer," her father said coldly.

"On the contrary, mister Leonhardt, I think you'll find this to be an offer you can't refuse." The thin man's voice was cordial, but there was a danger lurking beneath his words. "We'll be back to run some tests next week. Your cooperation is much appreciated."

Their footsteps faded. Annie scrambled out of the way as the door opened again.

"Who were they?" she asked.

Her father shook his head. "I don't know."

And she knew that was the end of it.

* * *

The same men did not return again; however, true to their word, it was only a week later that another pair came back. The first was not noteworthy, but studied her movements with quiet precision. The second man was a little more ordinary, brown haired, sporting a thin beard and dressed in a suit that displayed the beginnings of shabbiness, surveying the surroundings over thin spectacles, exuding a hint of warmth.

They conducted multiple tests over the course of a week. Agility, aptitude, endurance and the like. And Annie was privately exultant—here was her chance to prove herself.

Her father, however, was not so enthused. Annie could not understand the reason for this, but she was at least glad that the thin man with his shiny eyes had not come back. So she ran. She fought. She demonstrated her techniques. And she could tell they were impressed as they discussed this among themselves. After they had left, her father was quiet for a time, gazing down the road they had taken.

"They've accepted you into their organization," he stated. Then he turned away and headed inside the house.

She did not follow him.

* * *

The final week was strange.

Her father trained her. When he talked, it was to impress upon her the importance of her Mission. That was it. She trained until she fainted, and then he would let her rest. And they would go again. Again, until she was numb to pain, numb to all but her father's words.

But as days passed, she grew weary. Weary of the emptiness in her body, weary, for the first time in her memory, of her father's inexplicable fervor and talk of a Mission that she'd never asked for. But it was all she had, and her father's word was gospel, and she obeyed.

One day, when they were at the end of a session and he told her to stop, Annie kept her hackles up, fists raised but still. And waited. Seconds passed. She counted them in her head. Four, seven, twelve. Then it happened.

"Get inside," he ordered. "Rest, and you'll do more."

"I'm fine, father," she answered, and did not move. She looked to him for an explanation and he gave her nothing. So Annie decided to ask for herself. "What are you training me to do?"

"The circumstances of your mission demand that you are equipped to protect yourself."

"From what?"

"From those who will seek to kill you—" he gripped her shoulder, her wrist, correcting her stance, "—but you will be ready—" she looked up at him, and he let her go, eyes never leaving her, "—and you will kill them first. Now, come at me again."

Yet there was something different about the way he carried himself. His silence was no longer cold, no longer indomitable. There was sadness there.

Annie pushed that thought away. She looked straight at her father, eyes narrowed in concentration. And struck out.

* * *

So the day of departure came.

Annie woke to see moonlight shining through the window, illuminating a figure by her bedside. She looked up to see the face of her father, obscured in shadow.

"This is the day," he said. "Get yourself ready, and we'll go."

And he left her without further information. Then again, Annie thought, that was not so unusual. What bothered her was his anxiety.

They departed from their home under cover of darkness, and walked down one of the main paths from their village. After a few minutes, and to Annie's surprise, they veered right off the path, moving directly through the forest until they came into a clearing. A carriage waited. The horse pulling it was black and hardy.

Her father broke the silence. "Do you remember the men who came a few months ago?" She nodded. At this, her father seemed to falter. He looked much older, all of a sudden. Weaker. It was a disturbing thought. "Those folks are part of a group of people that can protect you."

Annie stared at him.

"I was wrong about them, child." There was a quaver in his voice. "You must understand, I had no choice."

He was frightened.

"I don't understand, father," said Annie.

Her father made a strange noise, quiet and strained, like something had caught in his throat. Slowly he faced her, dropping to his knees to take her by the shoulders. And then he was talking, talking as if he could not possibly say enough:

"I won't ask you to forgive me for what I've brought upon you. Mankind will never understand what you are. They will hate you for it. But I swear that I will be on your side." His voice cracked as he took her hand in his. "They told me there would be others like you. Other children. I want to think I've raised you to be able to handle yourself."

She was suddenly aware of a small object, cold and heavy in her palm.

_The ring._

Now he was holding her, unresponsive in his arms, mumbling over and over that he was sorry. She was aware suddenly of the dampness on her shoulder, how he was shaking. "Promise you'll come back to me," he whispered.

Annie was still.

The driver was in no hurry to escort her. He was probably used to these kinds of send-offs.

* * *

The camp was hidden away, deep in the mountains. It was beautiful, if you liked that sort of thing.

Once situated, her training began. She joined the ranks of an ensemble of hard-set children from within and outside the Walls. They wore no coat of arms, no emblem to identify themselves. And they were not soldiers. They were Warriors. Shifters. They were the best of the best, and their actions would determine the fate of mankind. So she was told. So they were told.

With the loss of her father fresh in her mind, she threw herself into the trials offered to her. And she exceled. For the first time, she stood on her own two feet, unaided.

During this period, she was approached by a couple of older Shifters. A sandy-haired, broad-shouldered boy by the name of Reiner Braun had made the mistake of trying to reach out to her, whereupon she ensured he would regret his decision by sending him hurtling over her shoulder, breaking his hand for good measure in the process. To her surprise and supreme anger, he had seemed greatly amused by this, and she was only grudgingly conscious of his mentioning her as "the new kid" at dinner. She also got to know Marcel better, but Annie soon discovered that she liked him less than Reiner; he was far too proud, and turned vitriolic at the mention of the people inside the Walls.

Another boy, tall and dark haired, approached her the next day. He was a little more wary of her as he spoke.

"You're Annie, I take it? Reiner mentioned you yesterday." She did not acknowledge him.

"He can be a bit…direct." He smiled. "When you've known him as long as I have, it's really not that shocking." She felt him sit next to her. "I'm Bertholdt, by the way," he added.

She allowed him a glance, but nothing more.

* * *

There were in total, thirteen months of preparation. Thirteen months of learning how to Shift, how to incorporate the blade in Father's ring into a fail-safe trigger and above all, additional military instruction. They called it _Turnen_*****.

The first highlight of her experience occurred approximately three months after her enlistment.

She was roused by one of their superiors before the other children awoke, not to train or breakfast, as usual. Instead she was escorted to a separate building apart from the main establishment. She walked down a long hall where men and women in white coats went in and out of doorways. Some of them led other children along, just as lifeless and resigned as Marcel had been. And just like Marcel, all of them, children and adults, had scars on their faces. Annie wondered, not for the first time, if they had all been victims of some cult or terrible crime. Or perhaps it was self-inflicted? She had no idea what to make of them.

The rooms she passed by and the one she entered were not unlike the rest of their dwellings; simple and comprised mainly of wood, but far cleaner than any room she'd seen, here or anywhere else. A man stood over a table with his back turned to her, but she could not see what he was doing.

"Doctor? I've brought the recruit."

The man did not look up.

"Sir," said her superior, but the man held up a hand.

"You may go, Otis."

Otis left without another word. As the man in the white coat turned around, Annie noticed he wore spectacles, and, for the first time, that he bore those same, strange scars.

"Leonhardt, is it?" She blinked in surprise, and the man smiled. "My name is Doctor Jaeger. You might remember me from your examination a few weeks ago."

Annie did not reply. This was her practice, fortified by her father's betrayal and the awareness that the world was an enemy all its own. She merely watched as the man withdrew a syringe from his coat and filled it with a translucent liquid.

"This is something we give all the new recruits," he explained. "If you would hold out your arm for me."

The effects of this injection were soon apparent.

First came the heat. She was too hot, far too hot. Her skin burned, tinged pink. When she bolted from the room in a blind panic despite the doctor's protests and threw herself into the river, her body emitted profuse amounts of steam. She stared down at herself, trembling.

_What have they done to me?_

Just then, the doctor caught up with her.

"It's all right!" he cried. "Your temperature will stabilize eventually! Calm yourself, it'll help speed up the process!"

She tried this. Annie found that he was right. The steam ceased, and she was left with thin burns all over her flesh, but otherwise, she seemed to have returned to some semblance of normalcy. Soon after this she was wracked with hellish pain. The heat returned to her, as well as a sensation like hundreds of tiny shards of glass sewn inside her body. She felt hands pull from where she had collapsed upon the riverbank. They guided her, half-dragging her along, until they set her down on a mattress, where she curled up, quivering like a wounded animal, teeth clamped down on her sleeve to try and stifle her pitiful noises.

Pain was just a word. It meant nothing to her. But this was different. It allowed her no reprieve, and she could not escape into her mind. It came in waves, rising and receding.

"I'm afraid this is all part of the process," said a man's voice. He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, child. This should pass by tomorrow."

Annie made another strangled noise.

The pain ebbed, slowly and agonizingly through the night. It was not until the next day, early in the morning, that sleep came to her.

* * *

The first thing she heard was the twittering of birds. She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, bright with sunlight from the window. When she closed them, she could almost pretend she was home again. The pain in her body was familiar; she could imagine that her father might come to wake her.

But Annie knew better than to dream.

"Awake, I see," said a familiar voice. Annie blinked. She sat up, looked over to see the tall boy from all those days ago. What was his name? Bertholdt? She stared blankly at him. His face was still fresh with youth, but there was a quiet sorrow lining his features. His eyes were older, wiser than one would expect of one so young. And there were the scars. Everyone in this encampment seemed to have them. She touched her own face with trembling hands and felt…nothing. No scars.

"Is something wrong?" the boy asked.

She pressed her face into her hands, exhaled slowly. "How long have I been out for?"

"A day," said the boy. "You've done extraordinarily well, you know. A lot of recruits don't make it this far."

Her stomach twisted. She lowered her hands, opened her eyes, staring at her knuckles. "What's going to happen to me now?" she asked.

"You'll rest. When you're up for it, I expect you'll be thrown right back into our training program. But not until you're ready." He smiled kindly. Annie wished he wouldn't. "Do you want to talk about this? I'm not Doctor Jaeger, but I can try and explain to the best of my ability."

How to begin? Annie frowned, scratching restlessly at the linen of her bed-sheet. She had a lot of questions.

"What was in the shot Doctor Jaeger gave me?" she asked.

"The shot that Doctor Jaeger gave you is, in short, what makes or breaks a candidate. You'll have to ask the Doctor if you want to know all the technicalities, but the crux of it is this: as of now, you are not the girl you were. Cold cannot ail you. You can heal yourself, when wounded. You are stronger, faster."

"How many times have you given this speech?" she asked coolly.

Bertholdt smiled grimly. "More than a few. Enough times, I think, to explain it proficiently. But only if you're willing to listen." He paused. "Do you know of the Titans?"

"Yes," she said, not sure where he was going with this. She'd never actually seen one.

"Imagine, for a moment, that you could control one, meld its body to your will."

She sat up abruptly, oblivious to pain. "What have they done to me?" she demanded.

The emotion in Bertholdt's eyes was unspeakable. He looked far, far older than his apparent age. "You are something greater than any human or mindless Titan. You are a Shifter—a human in the shell of a Titan."

Annie felt the first dredges of fear well up inside her. Terrible implications chased each other around her mind, each more disturbing than the last.

"Why was I chosen?" It was the only question she could think of, foolish as it was. Her voice sounded alien to her ears, small and frightened. Bertholdt regarded her with something close to sympathy. It made her angry. She didn't want this stranger's pity. She flinched when he laid his hand on her shoulder. It was hardly a large hand, but she was a small girl. But she didn't shake him off. What was the point? She could not come home and find her father. She was a monster.

"You're exceptional, Annie," said Bertholdt. "We're exceptional."

He did not speak these words with pride or with fire in his eyes. There was resignation, understanding. He shared in her sorrow. And she was thankful.

* * *

She was well enough to walk the day after that. The weeks flew by, became months. An endless cycle. Rise, fight, sleep, continue.

Annie learned to trust Bertholdt. He was not overly friendly like Reiner, nor was he as haughty as Marcel. He was silent and knowledgeable and simply there, a voice of reason.

By the end of the the fourth month, she knew how to Shift. She even forced herself to tolerate Reiner's attempts at camaraderie. By the middle of the fifth month, she had all but perfected it. A creature formed of her will, skin and bones and fire. It was like a dream. In death her Titan-body dissolved, and she was reborn from the ashes, a girl once more. With every transformation, her mind grew a little clearer. Scars etched across her cheeks, down her chin in parallel lines, from the corners of her mouth, marking her ascension to deity-hood, stark even against her skin. They were a constant reminder of her inhumanity.

With nothing left to her, she relinquished her old life like a Titan-shell and began anew. Her father's promise, however, clung to her consciousness. She kept his request close to her heart, like a secret.

_Come back to me_, he had begged of her.

_I will, father_. _I'll come back._

* * *

She made a mistake when she challenged Marcel on the connotations of the term _soldier_ versus _warrior_. It was a silly thing to care about, in hindsight. He barely even glanced at her when he responded:

"Something to remember is that we're not soldiers, Annie. We're warriors."

She scowled. "We're an organized military group. Why do we call ourselves something so childish?"

Marcel stopped what he was doing and stared at her as though she had just called him something abhorrently offensive.

"I beg your pardon, Leonhardt," he snapped, "but we've achieved much more with our lives than those little subservients living behind their walls could ever dream. They're cowards. We don't associate ourselves with them."

He turned away, looking affronted. Annie was not interested in pursuing the matter any further.

Later, she asked Bertholdt about it.

"It's not a matter of justifying a title," he explained to her. "We aren't soldiers. We differentiate ourselves in this way from the men and women who do lay down their lives for their country. We aren't so much trying to defend our country as take it back."

"Take it back from who?"

Bertholdt closed his eyes, deep in thought. When he opened them again, he looked tired.

"It's a long story, not for your ears. Suffice it to say that we've tried to negotiate with another group within the Walls, and it didn't go over well. They are up in arms against us, and have the will of the people. We have no choice but to strike back, before they can beat us to it."

He looked up, trailing off. Annie followed his gaze and saw Reiner, who waved.

"Why does Marcel take his duties so seriously?" she asked, addressing her knuckles. Bertholdt glanced over at her. "I don't know why he bothers," she said coolly. "It's pointless, all of it. We're all fighting against the Titans, in the end. Allowing personal bias won't solve anything."

"To you, perhaps," said Bertholdt. "But to him, it's anything but that."

Reiner nudged her arm. "Don't take him too seriously, kid. That's what he wants." He grinned.

Annie found that she'd never quite appreciated how easygoing Reiner was.

* * *

She was called by their superiors to a field they used for Titan experiments on a cloudless morning in April. Annie arrived, alone and more than suspicious at the abruptness of this assembly. Bertholdt and Reiner were already there, and to her slight dismay, Marcel was there, too. Reiner looked just as confused as she felt, while Bertholdt and Marcel stood by, quiet and at attention.

"Good," said the voice of an officer. "You're all here." He looked them over. "I will be honest with you, now," the officer continued. "Many of our recruits don't make it this far. But you have shown yourselves to be quite capable. Therefore, we've given you a chance to prove your worth." He paused. "The four of you will clear a path through the Walls, starting with Shiganshina, and if all goes well, work your way to the capital. That is the first plan.

"However, there is a backup. If for some reason worst comes to worst, you will instead turn your efforts to locating and retrieving the Coordinate." The officer paused again. Annie glanced over to Bertholdt and Reiner, who looked confused. Even Marcel seemed uneasy.

"Sir," interjected Annie, feeling. "What is the purpose of the Coordinate, exactly?"

"Our enemy has used it to gain power in the Walls and cast us out," said Marcel harshly. "Is that not reason enough to take it from them?"

"That will do, Marcel," said the officer. "In the event of something going wrong, which is not at all out of the question, but unlikely, you will all search for the Reiss family—they will know where to lead you."

The four looked at each other. Annie hoped she was not alone in thinking that this plan sounded at best, entirely dependent on luck and cast into peril by the extent of this organization's inclination towards arrogance.

"Very good," said the officer. "You two—" he motioned towards Bertholdt and Reiner "—will go as a team of three, including Francis." Another man, red-haired and slight of frame, nodded.

"And you, Leonhardt, will be with Marcel."

Marcel looked from the man to her and nodded stiffly, not meeting her eyes.

"Your compatriots will relay the details of your mission to each of you. This is the day we have trained you for. Good luck."

* * *

As it turned out, Annie's part to play was relatively simple. Almost insultingly so, but Annie kept that to herself. All she had to do was Shift, run out to the tree-line while in her Titan form, and scream. According to Marcel, her scream would draw the Titans to her. Literally, that was the end of her involvement. Bertholdt and Reiner would be in the thick of things, but as far as Annie was concerned, that was probably for the better.

"How does this work, exactly?" she questioned, unable to hide the skepticism in her tone. "Do I just…_will_ a horde of Titans to run towards Shiganshina with my mind?"

"That's precisely what you're going to do," said Marcel crisply. "And please, don't take that tone with me."

After half an hour of walking, Annie suggested that she Shift. "I'll have to use the Titan, anyways," she explained. "Might as well do it now than later."

To her surprise, Marcel was all for it.

The transformation was easy, familiar. She towered high, high above the forest. Marcel was light as a feather on her shoulder. But even in Titan form, the journey to Shiganshina took up hours; by the time they had, the sun was reaching its highest point in the sky.

She stepped out into the light. The sun shone down upon the grassy terrain. In the distance, there was a white stripe that stretched across the vista, long and endless….

Wall Maria.

Inside the Titan, Annie caught her breath. She stared at it for a full minute before Marcel called her attention and she remembered her purpose.

She moved closer, closer. The Wall only became more impressive as she drew near. And then she came into range.

"Now!" barked Marcel.

Annie exhaled heavily, and her Titan emitted a guttering hiss. Threw its head back and let out a long, piercing, wailing sound. It was nothing that could have come from the throat of a human. She ceased. What was she supposed to do, now?

"Wait for it," Marcel ordered.

They didn't have to wait for long. The earth rumbled. Shook under the brunt of what must have been a hundred Titans. She did not turn her head to confirm their presence.

"Direct them!" Marcel roared. "Picture the goal in your mind, and get their attention!"

Steeling herself, Annie's Titan emitted another shriek.

_Head for Wall Maria._

As a single unit the Titans turned, shambling towards the awesome construction blazing in the sun, ignoring her completely.

"Excellent," said Marcel, voice overflowing with relief, with pride. "Let's fall back."

* * *

As they came closer to their destination, they saw more Titans in the forest. Most were milling about, but some took notice of her. Annie ignored them and kept running. Fatigue had yet to kick in, and as far as she knew, the Mission was still going, and would not end until she came back and gave her report.

Everything seemed to be going well until they returned and found the camp ravaged by Titans. They were the elite. They were masters, they were Shifters, and they were completely unprepared for such a breach.

To call it a massacre would be an understatement.

At a loss for what to do, they fled into the forest. Annie didn't stop running until she knew she was far, far away from any threat. Only then did she remove herself from her Titan. Marcel was kind enough to help excavate her from the crumbling shell, and they held a respite in the forest.

"I'm going on ahead," Marcel told her. "You get to the Wall."

"I'm with you," she insisted. "We're stronger as a team. Don't be stupid."

"I am not being stupid," he growled. "There's clearly been a break-in, and as your commanding officer, it's my duty to protect you. I'm ordering you to stay back, get yourself to safety."

Annie considered her options. On the one hand, she could let Marcel go alone, banking on the fact that he would draw the Titans' attention and make a run for it. Dishonourable, but practical. On the other hand, it left them both alone, weak and vulnerable. But she knew that Marcel was a dignified, hard-headed idiot who wouldn't listen. That was his problem, not hers.

So she let him go.

* * *

She was one of the fortunate few who fled to the fields within Wall Rose, posing as one of the many rattled citizens. In some respects, this was not difficult. Alone, in the heart of the enemy's country, it was difficult not to be uneasy. And when she saw them she could not help but sigh in relief. She found Bertholdt first; an easy feat, he was a ludicrously tall boy. Reiner was there, too. He was beside himself, silent and shaken, looking for all intents and purposes like a large, lost child.

"Marcel's dead, Annie," Bertholdt said quietly. "I think everyone is. We were betrayed by one of our own." His expression wavered, crumbled. "I'm so sorry."

Annie didn't know what to say. Reiner began weeping quietly. Bertholdt turned away, patting him on the shoulder in the manner an older brother might apply to a frightened, younger sibling. It was almost comical.

From then on, they were a team. Together, they worked and lived and slept, always wondering about the Coordinate. Who had it? How would they transport it back?

For two years, they had no answers, and no one to turn to but each other. At the end of this period, the trio entered into the Military Academy.

* * *

_A/N: So there we have it, the new and improved reboot/prologue! How'd you guys think it went?_


	2. Exoneration

_Chapter One: Exoneration_

* * *

It was upon the second year of their enlistment that Annie was actually introduced to Eren Jaeger―though perhaps introduced was not the proper word. In truth, she had more or less sent him sprawling. He had not strictly been asking for it, but he had been in close enough proximity to Reiner, and Reiner had definitely been asking for it. Once both had been sufficiently dealt with, she straightened up, slightly winded.

Eren commented upon her technique, and when she told him it didn't matter anyway he stared at her, apparently unable to comprehend the fact that the entire process was, in her opinion, quite unnecessary. A small part of her found his naiveté amusing.

As the hours passed and tedium settled in, she took to studying him. He was easy to read, even easier to defeat and astonishingly hot–headed. This ensured her a steady stream of takedowns that became increasingly violent in accordance with her exasperation (overpowering the boy was ridiculously straightforward even without the enthusiastic whoops of their fellow trainees). But what the boy lacked in skill was made up for in a near inexhaustible source of tenacity and a cheerful disposition, which was surprising considering the amount of times he was bested none too gracefully by her hand.

It was not long after this string of defeats that she realized he wanted to learn from her; and his exuberance, once annoying, now became insufferable, but if she was fiercely determined to deny him, he was just as determined to be trained, and by the end of the fourth session out in the field Annie found that she had little incentive to keep this game up. Perhaps if she humored him, he would be satisfied, learn to take a hint and leave her be.

To her increased dismay, this act of grudging acceptance on her part only seemed to spur him on to try even harder, and as hours became days she was slowly pressed to recognize that, reckless as he was, he was learning. It was not a groundbreaking change; she bested him more often than not, but trial and error had taught him to anticipate her blows. This was somewhat encouraging.

Annie wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he had made notable progress, of course, and in a sense, she didn't need to; there was something in the way his eyes shone that told her that he understood quite plainly, whether she wanted him to or not.

Upon realizing this, Annie experienced a small twinge of annoyance and something else she could not bring herself to think about, then the urge to punch something; preferably Reiner, or him, for that matter. She did not like this boy. She could not afford to do so. Mina was a companion at most.

Yet he was different, inexplicably so.

He grinned triumphantly down at her, then gave a yelp of pain as she floored him.

* * *

The ensuing summer months brought with them a strange escalation of tension. Perhaps it was the uncertainty of the Mission looming ahead, perhaps Reiner's observation of her unusual behavior. The siege of Wall Maria felt as if it had transpired ages ago, and yet knowing this did nothing to ease her nerves.

"Hey!" The call jerked from her thoughts. She inclined her head as a form of greeting.

"What do you want, Jaeger?"

Eren grinned. "Need a partner?" There was an ease of which he said this, and she found herself simultaneously fascinated and somewhat envious at the extent of his ignorance, willful or otherwise.

"Is there any particular reason you're asking me?" At this, the boy seemed to falter, and he took an abrupt and rather petulant interest with the forest on the outskirts of the training field. This brought on a burst of satisfaction that would have been childish in any other situation; here, it felt strangely warranted.

"I―I wanted to train," Eren said shortly. Annie smirked despite herself.

"Is that so?" He tore his gaze from the trees and glared at her, still flustered. She gave him a thin, fleeting but genuine smile in return. "All right." For a moment, Eren seemed to take in what she had just said, then he blinked.

"Oh."

"Unless you've changed your mind?" Annie went on.

"Ah―no!" he said hastily. This was all the encouragement she needed.

"Come on, then."

* * *

As the world around them died and the air became colder, reluctant curiosity blossomed into a strange and altogether disquieting fascination with the boy. Much to her annoyance, this newfound interest did not go unnoticed by her companions. But what else had she expected? The fascination lingered, unaddressed and unremitting, and was not given even the slightest acknowledgement until tonight, during which she was jolted from a particularly strange dream to find the ragged blanket wedged between her and her bunkmate, and a very ill–tempered Mina waiting for her on the other side. Her strained composure did little to hide the greater part of her exasperation as she hissed:

"You could just _tell_ him, you know."

* * *

Late–night training was her idea; a product of crushing boredom and increasingly unjustifiable dreams. Fending through the darkened training field was an acceptable alternative. She was not afraid. Her father had taught her from a very young age that fear was not her master.

Annie allowed herself the privilege of disquiet, nothing more. She chose not to dwell upon the suggestion that her thoughts remained pertinaciously fixed upon the boy with the green eyes and an inclination towards reckless behavior that had long since earned him the moniker of "suicidal bastard".

He was just a boy, after all. The mantra served as a temporary diversion as she wound her way through the shadows. _Just a boy._

Her mistake came one November evening. She got him alone upon the field, lured upon the pretense of training. In all honesty, it really had started out as nothing more than that.

And then she kissed him. (She came down far too quickly; there was an audible click of teeth, and she pulled away with a muffled curse). He neither returned the kiss, nor pushed her away. Annie wondered whether he was simply too surprised to react. In their world, there was a very thin line separating typical sparring from something else entirely and she had not crossed it, no, she had bounded spectacularly over it. An awkward pause settled in the wake of this unsuccessful attempt.

"I didn't startle you?" she asked finally.

He glanced up at her, apparently taken aback by the question. Then he muttered: "Uh...no."

And though her expression remained impassive, her spirits soared. "Good." She leant back over him, relishing in the fact that for once, nothing would interrupt them.

* * *

As the bitter cold of winter approached, the weeks were a little less in doubt.

Regardless of the faintest trace of hope, it was this that marked the beginning of her descent.

For whatever small, promising instant they had shared was apparently for naught; it never went further and eventually Annie was forced, however begrudgingly, to conclude that Eren Jaeger was incapable of taking a hint, or else too hesitant to do so. Admitting this to herself brought nothing but a long–forgotten sting of burning disappointment, and the thought of Reiner's additional comments and Mina's apologetic smile only cemented that feeling.

So she found something in Bertholdt Hoover, and when the guilt returned to gnaw at her chest she simply told herself that this was a means to settling inconvenient urges; nothing more, nothing less. It was not necessarily right, but since when had that ever mattered?

It mattered because Bertholdt knew. He never said a word, never once gave the slightest inclination, but he looked at her and understood too much, understood that while he loved her and she needed to be loved, she did not love him. Yet he accepted this.

Of course, it was not long until it became clear that Eren had caught on. She did not question this new development, and likewise, he retained a determined silence in her presence. There was a sense of anger in his behavior, of confusion, and a host of other troublesome emotions, but above all there was resentment.

She cast a look of feigned concern his way, just to test his reaction. He shot her a particularly venomous glare in return, and she found herself thinking that this might have been humorous in any other situation. Now there was only grim satisfaction; indeed, she found his new behavior very reminiscent of his sister and her disapproving glances. Shortly after this thought occurred to her, Annie was struck with two sudden, equally reckless urges to either bring this revelation to his attention or to punch him.

She did neither of these things.

* * *

Nobody talked to her anymore. To be more precise, Mina had stopped talking to her. Of course, Annie never made it a point to converse with anyone; even so, this sudden dissolution of contact was not to be overlooked.

But she had done what Father had implored her to do.

_Mankind will never understand what you are._

It came as a surprise to no one that Reiner would be the one to bring up the issue.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but you need to let this go if you want to have a chance at the top ten."

Of course he would not have the clarity of mind to recall why they were here in the first place. She felt the anger boil in her, white-hot. Her appearance was unaffected save for the slight, unmistakable stiffening of her shoulders. If he was too confused within his own guilt to recognize this, then it was his loss.

"You're a soldier, aren't you?"

He really didn't remember anything, did he? She didn't look at Bertholdt for confirmation. She didn't need to. Reiner sighed heavily.

"Look, kid, I understand that you're having a rough time. But you've got to get your act togeth―"

Something snapped within her through a display of violence unseen in years. It was as if she was eleven again, and he had made the indefensible error of laying a friendly hand on her shoulder. She wheeled around, grabbed him by the front of the shirt and slammed him down with all her might into the table to a chorale of cries and gasps from the other cadets.

_They will hate you for it._

"Shut your mouth," she spat. Reiner grunted, seemingly unaffected by the blow, and more than anything else, thoroughly unimpressed.

The whole room was eerily silent. She would not bring herself to look at Bertholdt; she could feel their shocked gazes boring into her like knives. They were afraid of her, more so than they had been before, astounded by this anomalous display of emotion.

_Are you happy, Father? I've done exactly what you asked me to._

It was with bitter constitution that Annie Leonhardt recognized that she had lost control.

* * *

Eren sought her out one cold afternoon. The snow was spread thin across the grounds, retreating with the promise of warmer weather.

"Annie?"

She denied him the pleasure of words, as per usual. This had been going on for weeks, and she was already tired of it.

There was a pause in which he swore under his breath―a proverbial display of frustration. "What the hell do you want from me?" Thus challenged, she spoke her first real words to him.

"I wouldn't expect a boy like you to understand how I feel." Annie could not see his face, but she could sense the wound she had inflicted.

Why had she even involved herself with the boy? He was, in infinite ways, all that she was not: he was human, he was a fool, and his cause was one that would be forever in vain. And it was a greater mercy, she told herself, to ensure that he would not know the extent of their aims.

Presently, he gathered his nerve.

"Why waste your time with me, then?" She failed to form a retort. Regrettably, this was not lost on him. There was no need to look his way; she knew that he was waiting for a proper answer, knew that he saw the little hitch in her movement.

He was too perceptive for his own good. It scared her. And fear was unacceptable.

Why can't you just leave me alone? It would make all our lives easier.

She recovered quickly. "I've nothing to say to you." Evidently he understood the sentiment.

Once again, there came a pang. This time she forced herself to abandon it.

* * *

Soon enough, Trost came and went in a rush of massacred trainees, Titans and familiar faces, all trapped within grotesque poses of demise.

She and the others found their way to a lone rooftop where the rest of the trainees had gathered.

Among the names listed, Mina and Eren stood out. Though she remained expressionless, the loss was akin to the wrenching of a knife in her chest.

Mikasa Ackerman led the group onward to the Headquarters, overrun with Titans.

And it was this that heralded the arrival of the Rogue Titan.

It took several smaller Titans to detain the creature, and even then it did not collapse until every Titan in the vicinity had been killed.

A thick cloud of steam rose from the body as it disintegrated. Jean was all for abandoning the Titan and moving on, but a few of their comrades continued to watch as something―no, someone burst from the nape. The steam rendered the person unidentifiable, but as seconds passed, it began to clear.

Before any of them could react, Mikasa bolted from the rooftop.

Minutes ticked by, then Armin and Jean followed. They soon returned, without their comrade, white–faced and speechless.

She watched the rest of the cadets tend to their savior. Mikasa held the unconscious boy in her arms, weeping openly. The Arlet boy knelt by her side.

Eren Jaeger, a Titan Shifter. One of them.

This changed everything.

Bertholdt and Reiner exchanged glances. Annie pretended not to notice the understanding cast in her direction.

Evening came, and the mass of corpses were laid in one, fetid, fly-ridden pile. The fire was lit and rose, burning. When the last of the embers had died, far away from the prying eyes and ears of the cadets, Reiner sprung the question: "So...did you know?"

"No," said Bertholdt. "What about you, Annie?"

"I didn't." The last word was partially muffled through gritted teeth.

Bertholdt seemed to have heard exactly what he had been expecting.

"...Keep an eye on him, then," he sighed. "He could be a spy for all we know."

Annie looked incredulously at him. A spy!? How could this incompetent boy be a spy?

Even Reiner seemed dubious.

"Whatever he is," he said, "we should keep an eye on him." He turned to Annie. "You're enlisting into the Military Police?"

She nodded.

"Well then," he said, "that takes care of our problem, doesn't it?" Both of them stared at him. Reiner shrugged. "They don't give a damn about their members. It's perfect."

"And for all we know," Bertholdt lowered his voice, "Eren might know something about the Coordinate. He is Doctor Jaeger's son, after all." With an air of resignation, Annie eventually replied.

"Right."

* * *

Several days later, Annie awoke within the dorm, alone, to the memory of more than a dozen casualties by her hand, and the fact that she had failed, once again, to keep tabs on the boy.

And she was going to be late.

The first few days of life in the Military Police had been dispiriting at best; the other soldiers either ignored her or asked stupid questions. The only indication of anything remotely promising came from an older boy by the name of Marlowe Freudenberg.

The all–too familiar tone of his words brought another twinge that she disregarded.

* * *

The morning sun strained to cast its light through the cover of clouds, grey and bloated. Below this, the people of Stohess District went about their business. Annie was stationed alongside Hitch at the market corner when the boy walked past. A sudden urge to take a second look struck her, and against her better judgment, she chanced a second glance at him. No sooner had she done this that he stopped, then looked back, green eyes wide with recognition, then relief.

Even with the civilian clothes he wore, realization came to her as a sickening swoop in the pit of her stomach. Annie glared furiously at him for a brief moment before determinedly turning her attention to the people traveling back and forth through the street. If Hitch had noticed this, she didn't say anything.

Why the Scouting Regiment would allow their greatest asset to wander the streets was a mystery to her: perhaps the prestige surrounding said organization was a complete farce, and their security was worse than that of the Military Police. Or perhaps he'd snuck out. Either way, the boy had seen her.

To her mingled shock and indignation, he began to make his way over to her.

Annie excused herself, ignoring the other girl's inquisitive remark as she let him follow her down one of the vacant alleyways and only turned around when she was quite sure they were alone.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was the same, perfected monotone, but her eyes betrayed the anger lurking beneath her usual façade of indifference. Eren appeared to be steeling himself. After a moment of silence, he replied:

"I came to talk."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint," Annie said frostily, "but I've nothing to say to you. Good day." She made to turn away, but he grasped her arm and she froze at the touch.

"Wait!" He moved to face her, taking hold of her shoulders as he did so. "Listen to me, Annie," Eren hissed. "You're in danger." She paused, once again cold and stoic as she had been during their days as cadets.

"Is that so?"

He took advantage of her snide comment to answer. "The Scouts think you're the Female Titan." The once-dormant fear stirred in her chest. How did he know this? "They don't know where I've gone off to," he said quickly, "but the operation, the plan to capture you―it's tomorrow."

She regarded him with a certain skepticism he had long since grown accustomed to.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I trust you." His response was unflinching. She smiled thinly.

"How can you be so sure I am trustworthy?"

"Well, you were never the best liar." Annie found she had nothing to come back with. Eren glanced back down the alley. They were still quite alone. Reassured, he leant closer, voice low, breath warm and wavering against her cheek. "If all else fails, I suppose they'll hand me over to the Military Police." This did not seem to faze her nearly as much as his next words. "If the Regiment can provide proof that I'm not a threat to mankind, they might reconsider." Her face drained of what little color it possessed.

"Proof?" Her mouth was dry. Eren nodded, taken aback by this uncharacteristic display of hesitation.

"What's the matter?" he asked quietly.

You, she thought furiously. You're the damn problem.

Annie read the concern in his eyes and shook her head. "It's nothing," she said simply. When he didn't look convinced, she added, "Nothing either of us can prevent." He could not know what she meant by this cryptic statement, but he understood her sentiment. Now she continued, ignoring the frantic cry of her wits to stop this madness before she did something irreparable. "We're betraying the very people we once swore our allegiance to, you know. What's your excuse?"

No amount of training could have prepared her for his response.

"I love you."

She was quiet for a long time. Then she blinked, and her pretense of indifference was dispelled. "You're a damn fool, then," she said, but her voice shook slightly, her eyes were strangely bright, and she did not seem remotely persuaded by her own words.

He shrugged, replied: "You don't sound very convinced."

Annie swore under her breath.

"...Shut up. You're ruining the moment," she muttered.

So he kissed her.

It was the first real contact they had shared in years. She did not respond at first, and he broke off.

"Annie―" he began, but she kissed him again.

"Whatever happens" —her fingers played restlessly with the collar of his jacket, entertaining the idea without actually going through the motion— "promise me you won't do anything stupid." He muttered an agreement, but she gripped his shoulders, and he pulled back. For a moment they regarded each other, and before the doubt could creep back in, she spoke.

"Your word, Eren."

"Yes." His tone was solemn.

She glanced down the alley as he had done, but they remained undisturbed, and she murmured: "Then we've got a few minutes."

Now he grinned.

Clothes were unbuttoned, but not discarded, and as the contact became more passionate she was driven up against the alleyway wall. The back of her jacket was quickly stained from the filthy surface, coated with decades of dirt and God knew what else. Annie retained just enough clarity to remind herself that this act of insubordination went against everything Father had taught her, betrayed the Mission, the Shifters, and all she had paid for in blood and countless years of loss―

And then he thrust against her pelvis and she made a sound halfway between a yelp and a snarl as she seized in his arms, fingers slipping briefly through his hair before clutching feverishly at his shirt in an attempt to hold on to something.

Perhaps this was his way of making up for lost time. Annie didn't care to ask. She had already given away too much with Hitch, with Mina Carolina and Marco Bodt, and yet it was this boy who would be the first and last person to truly understand. This act of acceptance struck real fear in her and for the first time in her life, it was undeniable. But there was another emotion; a momentary relief, a frantic, foolish, yet overwhelming desire to take this chance at temporary freedom from the Mission. Perhaps, she thought in her uncharacteristically giddy state, she could persuade him. He was a Titan-Shifter, after all.

He pushed a little more insistently this time, and her legs came around his waist, arms locked tight across his shoulders.

Shifter or not, the addition of the truth would only complicate things. Yet she had grown tired of waiting for something to click between them, and this was an opportunity. He did not need to understand what she was. Not yet. There would be time to explain, hours to elucidate. (Truthfully, she doubted he would be nearly as compliant as he was at present. The thought drew another flutter in her fevered chest, bitter and repentant and absurdly happy all at once.)

There was a strange, vehement urge to guide him before he picked up on her stride and she was trembling uncontrollably between him and the soot-stained wall. Panting now, he nudged the fabric of her collar aside, sucked at the exposed flesh until she emitted an agitated string of rapid-fire swear words and feverish supplication. He obliged her all too willingly.

She didn't realize how close she actually was until she came with a breathless groan stifled between clenched teeth. He followed shortly afterward, supporting himself upon the wall, breath harsh and warm against her neck.

They parted. She tried to stand, but her knees buckled and he pulled her to him.

For a while there was naught but the sound of their breathing and a faint rawness along her back, but it was insignificant.

"You should go," she said quietly. "Don't want to keep them waiting." He drew back, and she began refastening her shirt; Annie could sense him watching her and wasn't quite sure how to feel despite the slight shiver that stirred through her.

"What about you?"

"I'll manage."

Eren was quiet for a long moment, as if weighing her response. Then he said: "Annie?"

She looked up.

He took her by the shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to her mouth, then was gone.

She watched him until he vanished around the corner. Hoping against hope that he would have the sense to try and make himself appear less suspicious, she did what she could to look reasonable and followed suit.

"What was that about?" Hitch asked immediately, when she rejoined her at their post. As with the rest of her prying inquiries, Annie gave no reply. Hitch eyed her curiously. "...You look a bit different."

Annie continued to ignore her, but inside she thought, with a touch of smugness:

You have no idea.

She woke the next morning and realized she was going to be late, again. Not that it would matter much.

The events of the previous day were much a conspiracy; after all, none of her fellow MPs were aware of what was to come.

Annie permitted herself a small, private smile in the solitude of the empty dorm.

* * *

"You're finally awake!" Hitch proclaimed loudly. The rest of the assembled soldiers turned to watch her progress down the steps.

"You've been a bit lax in your duties as of late," Marlowe added. Annie ignored this, leant back against the wall, concentrating on the polished floorboards to avoid being blinded by the sun shining through the window.

"Sorry I didn't wake you," said Hitch, "but you tend to make pretty frightening faces when you're asleep, so..." She left it at that.

A thrill of dread surfaced in her at this statement. How long would it be before she was found out?

Marlowe made a noise of tired exasperation. "She's a lost cause, Hitch."

Hitch rolled her eyes.

"Give it a rest, you two." Another one of the soldiers (wasn't his name Boris?) spoke up. "She's the only one of us to have fought in Trost. I'm sure it takes a while to get over that."

Hitch grinned.

"Ah, so you like her already? I can't imagine what you'd see in her, though!"

"Funny you should mention that, Hitch, seeing as she's one of the only MPs to get in through actual talent, and there's only one way someone like you could have gotten in."

"I'm not quite sure I understand you. Why don't you explain that last bit?" Hitch retorted, now distinctly waspish.

"Shut up, you two," Marlowe hissed. "The officer's coming."

They all stood at attention as the man walked around the corner.

"I already told you," he said irritably, "No salutes."

Annie and the rest of the soldiers let their arms down; Marlowe, however, remained as he was.

"Right, I called you here because there's actual work to be done. Something concerning the Scouts and the recent summons to the Capital."

She tensed, but kept her head bowed, listening closely.

"Our superiors have given us the word that they'll be passing through the main street sometime today. Your job will be to provide the convoy additional security. Usage of ODM within the city's limits has been authorized."

"Sir?" Marlowe spoke up. "What exactly are we supposed to be protecting the convoy against?"

The man regarded him oddly.

"I've never heard of anyone defying the government. There are petty criminals, sure, but I find it difficult to imagine any kind of organised group existing within the Walls would try to strike. What kind of motive would they have?"

The officer grunted.

"Well, you seem reliable. All right, here you go." And he thrust the sheet of paper into Marlowe's hands. "Everything you need to know is right in here." He turned towards the door, opened and paused while the sun cast its light on the threshold.

"Ah, and one more thing. Don't make a mess of this, all right? Our reputation's on the line, here."

And with that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Marlowe stunned in his wake.

* * *

When they got outside, Marlowe started talking furiously.

"What the hell is he doing? We haven't been here a month and they're already shoving this mission onto us?"

Hitch sighed. "That was why I chose to join in the first place. Isn't that why you joined?"

Marlowe glared at her.

"No. I'm nothing like the rest of you. I came here to restore order to the Military Police."

There was a brief silence in which his words seemed to reverberate in the air, almost ridiculous.

"And how do you plan to do that?" one of the soldiers asked.

"I'll make my way to the top. I'll do whatever it takes to get there. And when I do, I'll make damn sure the rest of this organisation earns their keep." They all looked at him in total disbelief, and he went on. "I'm not saying they should die―I just want to return this place to the way it was meant to be run."

Hitch let out a shriek and doubled up, convulsing with the force of her laughter.

"Oh, God! I thought you were going to be boring!" She took deep breaths, still trembling with glee. "I really underestimated you, didn't I? Sorry!"

"That's an admirable goal," said Boris. "I hope you achieve it."

Now Annie spoke up. "Is it, really?" They all looked at her. "I think that when so-called good people like you achieve power―that's when it's over."

Marlowe regarded her in minor surprise. "So you can talk after all. Why don't you keep going, if you've got something to say?"

Am I really going along with this? she thought dryly, but after a pause, she said:

"...You're outspoken for the right reasons, I suppose. There aren't many people like that nowadays. But I know they do exist." She allowed a pause while her words settled upon the company. "When society deems your kind to be useful, you get called special. So what do you call people who put themselves above others? Yesterday you called them evil. Cowards. Most of the cadets I knew just wanted a spot in the Military Police." Marlowe raised his eyebrows.

"You're trying to justify them?"

"No. I think we're cowards. And we're definitely evil. But doesn't that make us normal? If people are really as good as you claim, then this organisation shouldn't be this corrupt. Isn't it more of a reflection on the way it's become?" Another pause followed this statement. Annie took a breath, searching for the right words. "What I'm trying to say is...even if I'm just someone who goes with the flow, I just want you to think of me as human. That's all I wanted to say."

"You done yet?" Hitch said. "I never thought I'd want you to go back to being quiet."

"I guess it's like they say," Boris grinned, "Once the quiet ones get started..."

Marlowe flipped open a pocket watch and made a sound of dissatisfaction.

"We've wasted enough time talking. Let's go!"

Muttering their bewilderment at his sense of duty, they all headed towards the doors. Annie sighed inwardly, then turned to follow them. Something caught her attention. A figure in the corner of her vision, clad in green.

"Annie," Armin hissed.

She glanced at the retreating figures of her fellow MPs, but they were already far ahead. She entered the alley.

* * *

Now she stood at the mouth of the tunnel that served as entrance to the Under City and watched as the trio was swallowed by the darkness. There would be no sunlight to aid her in the catacombs. A feeling of dread lay heavy in her chest at the thought.

Eren had been right after all.

"Annie?" The Arlet boy was the first to notice her hesitance. The other two turned. "What's the matter?" he called.

"I can't help you if we're going that way." Her tone was calm, almost conversational. "The dark scares me."

Eren cast a doubtful grin up at her. "Coming from you? That's a laugh. Come on, we need to hurry." But she did not move. He faltered, comprehension dawning upon him. "...Annie?"

She smiled thinly, coldly. "Yes, nothing a suicidal bastard like you would understand."

But Eren could not have understood her meaning more plainly. His voice rose in fear, desperation:

"This isn't funny anymore, Annie―"

"You know, Armin," she cut him off, and her tone was harsh. "I don't understand what compelled you to ask for my help if you never trusted me in the first place."

Armin went very pale.

"You stole Marco's gear," he mumbled. "I knew it was his―I fixed it with him." She did not deny his words. How could she? Eren and Mikasa were watching him intently. "You killed the Titans we captured."

"Perhaps. If you're so sure I killed them, why did you wait a month to do anything?"

Armin grew steadily paler under her scrutiny.

"I...I didn't want to believe it." His voice was small. "I didn't want to believe that you would plan all this." He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to look at her. "What about you, Annie? Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"

She paused, considering the point herself.

"I don't know," she said finally. "If I had known you were this aware...I suppose I would have acted differently."

Eren stepped forward, panic in his tone. "Annie, this isn't a goddamn joke! Come down here!"

Annie fought a strange desire to laugh. What did you think would happen?

Armin extended his hand in her direction, trying to retain some level of reason.

"Look, can't we talk about this―?"

"Enough." Mikasa was ahead of them all, sword drawn. "This is pointless. I'll defeat you again, Female Titan."

This time she nearly did laugh. Defeat? Was that all Ackerman could see her as, an enemy to be cut down? Did she not understand what was coming, what would happen to their little civilization regardless of the outcome? Bertholdt and Reiner were still within their ranks, and the Mission would go on.

A stunned silence followed this proclamation. Armin and Eren turned to look at Mikasa, then back at Annie, who grinned hollowly at them, and in the brilliant contrast the shadows cast, she looked strange as she addressed the trio.

"...You don't understand." She was quiet and disbelieving and, for the first time, there was a hint of fear in her voice. "I can't go down there. I've failed." Her words were not meant entirely for Ackerman. She turned to Armin. "I'm glad I could be a good person to you. You were right about your bet."

In a rare display of subtlety, Eren said nothing, but looked beseechingly at her. Her eyes flashed an inconspicuous warning: Don't. The exchange only lasted a matter of seconds, but it did not go undetected by his companions. Together they glanced at him, then each other, then back at her. It would have been comical in any other situation.

"But now" ―she raised her hand to her mouth, and Armin raised the flare in his― "it's my turn!"

BANG!

Shouts rang out around them, and the once–empty square now came to life. The Scouts emerged from every place imaginable; the rooftops, behind walls and crates. Annie had mere seconds to react; she turned, and they had her. One caught her legs, another produced a gag, while two more held her arms. She paid them no heed.

Eren moved forward in alarm, but Mikasa threw her arm out in front of him with a shout: "Eren!"

The three in the tunnel looked at her, and she, at them. Her gaze flitted from Mikasa, to Armin, and finally, for a brief moment, she looked at Eren. The rapid succession of confusion, then understanding and desperation and love in his eyes was too much to bear.

As she held his gaze for a fraction of a second longer, something splintered, then broke within her.

_I'm sorry._

Annie flexed her hand, and her father's ring activated with a distinctive _shnk_.

She saw Armin's eyes widen in comprehension, just as Mikasa grabbed him by the arm, Eren by the back of the collar and sprinted down into the depths of the tunnel, away from the ensuing pandemonium. Eren shouted something desperate to his sister. Armin screamed at the assembled Scouts to run.

By then it was far too late.

All their cries were drowned in the deafening roar.

* * *

_7/2/15 A/N: Fixed punctuation, added a few sentences. This is now its own chapter, separate from the Prologue. That's Annie, her dad and Bertholdt and Reiner. Apologies for any confusion caused._

_***** — Turnen is a German word for Gymnastics. The term has carried military connotations for a while, too. You can read more about it here! (remove the periods)_

_h.t.t.p.:././.u.s.a.c.a.c...a.r.m.y...m.i.l./.c.a.c.2./.c.s.g.c./carl/download/csipubs/APRT__


	3. Complications

_Chapter One – Point – Five: Complications_

* * *

There was trouble even before the day the plan to capture the Female Titan was to be executed.

When Levi entered the threshold of the office, he found Erwin studying a worn map of Stohess spread out upon the table before him. He took up a more casual position against the doorframe and began without pause.

"We have a problem."

The statement hung in the air.

"It's Eren."

Erwin did not divert his attention from the map. Levi pressed on.

"The plan to capture the Female Titan is going to fail."

Now Erwin spoke.

"State your case."

"Eren left shortly after the briefing. I followed him."

Erwin paused.

"What did he do?"

"He found the target, then proceeded to discuss the plan."

"And did you intervene?"

Levi threw the man a look of reticent frustration that went unnoticed.

"That was my intention. However, I lacked a bucket of cold water to separate them." Another lengthy pause. Erwin got to his feet. "He is a _liability, _sir." Levi stressed the point. The other man shook his head.

"I am as aware as you of that fact. He still remains a vital component to our success."

He had neglected to mention the backlash from the public should they learn of the little affair between their target and the key player of their operations. Word of such a blunder on his watch would reflect poorly upon the Scouts. All the same, Levi figured that more slander was the least of their problems at the moment. He compromised.

"The least we can do is instruct Armin to keep an eye on him."

* * *

The boy was brought in several minutes later.

"Arlert." He looked up at the sound of his name, caught Erwin's eye and nodded.

"Yes, sir?"

"I have a task for you. I want you to keep an eye on your friend."

Armin seemed taken aback.

"You're talking about Eren?"

"Yes." Armin looked between them with an expression of mixed confusion and apprehension; he glanced at Erwin, as if on the pretense of inquiring further, but he seemed to think better of it.

"I understand, sir."

* * *

_A/N: Yes, I know this is short compared to that monster of a first chapter. XD Don't worry, Chapter Two is in the works! Armin is up next._

_To clear up any confusion that may occur, this scene takes place one day before the plan to capture the Female Titan._

_Read and review!_


	4. Volition

_Chapter Two: Volition_

* * *

Armin woke early on the morning of the plan's execution, feeling slightly ill. It had been difficult to sleep the night before; a hundred questions still burned in his mind, all unanswered. He had managed to force himself into a sort of restless slumber, nonetheless.

He sat up and fumbled, first for the lantern on the bedside table, then for the empty pitcher at the side of the bed. Once the light was lit, he stumbled across the room to the doorway.

His footsteps echoed in the empty corridor; his thoughts, however, raced furiously inside his head.

How was he going to pull this off? He had no real reason to trust Annie. There was always the possibility that she already suspected something...

Though if his previous encounter with the Female Titan had proven anything, she probably did. The thought did little to alleviate his fears.

Soon enough he was in the courtyard. A thin mist rolled over the cobblestone as he made his way towards the well. He was still thinking.

There had been the ominous order: _Keep an eye on your friend_. Why did Eren need to be watched? Had he let on something that they weren't aware of? Or was it merely because of his initial reluctance to accept the Female Titan's identity?

The pitcher was filled, thus, he made his way back to the main room. He poured the water into the basin. Armin took a breath, then leant down and cupped the water in his hands, splashed it on his face. The liquid was cool and a faint, metallic odor lingered.

Mikasa had been absent from this meeting. Did Erwin not trust her? He had lived alongside the pair long enough to sense when trouble was at hand, but there was no sign of any bad blood between Eren and Mikasa. They were all very close to one another. If the closeness of their friendship was the problem, then why had Erwin called _him_, and only him, down?

He looked up into the mirror and felt the dread rise in him. The Commander had trusted him with this. Clearly, he had more than enough faith in his abilities. The thought was strangely disturbing.

Armin dressed whilst the foreboding continued to fester in his chest.

* * *

His fellows were soon up and about, though they were not as tired or anxious. Eren, however, was uncharacteristically stoic. Armin brushed it off. The plan hinged upon the three of them, after all; perhaps he had not been the only one experiencing a restless night.

Shortly after breakfast, they gathered around one table to discuss a final run-through of the plan, headed by Erwin, Levi and Hange. The worn map of Stohess was covered with markers representing the various teams; Team One was to be stationed at this street, Team Two was on the rooftops, and so forth.

"Are there any questions?" Erwin said.

No one spoke up.

"Very well. You're dismissed."

They filed out to their respective destinations. Armin was the only one who did not move.

"Armin?"

He jumped at the sound of his name, and turned to see Hange looking at him.

"Y-Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded.

"Good luck."

* * *

The sun had risen hours ago. There was still a feeling of self-awareness as Armin made his way down the winding streets towards Stohess's Military Police headquarters. He took a turn into a dark, decrepit alley near the building in question. All he could do now was wait.

He leant back against the wall and almost immediately recoiled at the soft, wet _squish _that met his ears. A squeak of revulsion stuck in his chest as he turned to see whatever had made the noise.

Just a patch of moss.

Still recovering from that nasty shock, he performed a last-minute run-through of what strategy he had left to him. He heard the voices of the soldiers, muffled and indistinguishable, for a lengthy amount of time. Precious seconds ticked by. Armin eventually lost count of how much time had passed, distracted by the furious pounding of his heart against his ribcage. After what seemed to be an eternity of this, the gate opened, and the MPs headed out.

Annie hung back.

The moment her head turned in his general direction, he hissed:

"_Annie_."

Annie froze, did a double take. Armin gestured frantically towards himself. She cast a cursory glance back at the retreating figures of the MPs before she turned decisively upon her heel and walked over to join him in the alley.

"Armin?" Her tone was more surprised than her demeanor. He nodded.

"I see you're already a full-fledged MP." Her gaze shifted to his cloak, a look of mild confusion on her features.

"This? It's a porter outfit." He drew back the cloak to reveal the gear concealed beneath. "The rain gear hides my maneuvering equipment." Annie's attention returned to his face, analyzing.

"I'll get to the point, then." Armin said quickly. "We need your help. Can you come with us and help Eren escape?" She remained impassive.

"Where is he going to run?"

"I can't tell you. We don't intend to defy the monarchy openly; we're just going to hide him temporarily. We need time to gather our evidence." A flicker of emotion crossed her face, but it was gone as quickly as he had witnessed it.

"And what kind of evidence would that be?"

_She already knew_. He faltered.

"Sorry. I can't say that, either." Annie nodded.

"Good luck to you, then." And with that, she turned away from him. The crushing weight in his chest now burst.

"No—_wait_! Don't you understand!? They'll kill him!"

She paused.

"Mankind doesn't have a chance without him, not with the way things are headed! _We_ don't have a chance!"

Another period of silence. Armin knew by the subtle shift in her stature that his argument was not doing well to convince her. He went on hurriedly.

"I know this doesn't sound convincing, but I — I've run out of options, and we need the assistance of one of the Military Police to get through Sina's checkpoints." He stopped to catch his breath, mouth dry. "We'll try to keep you out of trouble, though I can't promise anything." He waited for her response.

"Do I look like a sort of good person to you?" Her tone was weary.

Armin hesitated before speaking.

"Erm...I'd rather not put it like that. It more or less implies good and bad as a term of convenience. And, well, everyone's a bad person to someone else." Armin cringed inwardly at the way this sounded, but he had gone too far to back down now. "My point is, if you don't help us, well...that would make you a bad person to _me._"

The silence that followed was the longest yet.

Annie exhaled through her nose.

"Fine." She withdrew a small ring from her jacket. "I'm in."

* * *

A bit of the tension was alleviated when Eren finally showed up. With a last glance back at the retreating carriage, he joined the three of them. But there was something off. There was not a spoken word between them, yet there was a feeling in the air, indirect yet almost tangible. He wondered whether Mikasa could sense it, too.

They set off through the dusty streets. It was only a few minutes before they had their first encounter with Military Police members. A pair stood idly to greet them.

"Who are these, then?" The first asked. Annie responded easily.

"They're with me." The other man surveyed the three of them. For a moment Armin wondered if, despite the general incompetence among the MPs, they actually were going to be caught, but to his great relief, the two quickly brushed it off. The four continued down the street.

"Armin." He realized she was talking to him. "What was your plan?"

"We would have broken through security with our mobility gear."

"Wouldn't it have been less trouble to escape before you reached Stohess?"

"Well, I figured that the switch wouldn't work without terrain as complex as the city's. Playing along with the Capital's expectations and slipping away seemed like it would buy us more time."

There was a pause.

"Alright, then."

* * *

"There it is!" Armin whispered, gesturing to the flight of stairs descending into darkness. Annie slowed to a halt.

"Here?"

"Yes." said Armin, relief flooding his voice. "This tunnel connects to an exit close to the outer gate." He chanced a glance at the other two; they seemed to share his sentiment. He went in first; Mikasa and Eren followed close behind him. "Taking the underground passage should be much safer..."

Armin stopped suddenly, struck by the feeling that something was very wrong. He turned to see Annie, still at the top of the stairs, watching them closely.

This wasn't going to plan; why hadn't she followed them into the passage?

"Annie?"

"I can't help you if we're going that way." He did not like how calm her voice was. "The dark scares me."

Eren grinned dubiously up at her. "Coming from you? That's a laugh. Come on, we need to hurry." She did not move, and he faltered. "...Annie?"

"Yes, nothing a suicidal bastard like you would understand."

Eren seemed to be losing his nerve.

"This isn't funny anymore, Annie–"

"You know, Armin," She cut him off, and her tone was harsh. "I don't understand what compelled you to ask for my help if you never trusted me in the first place."

Terror gripped him. "You stole Marco's gear." He mumbled. "I knew it was his – I fixed it with him."

She did not deny his words. Eren and Mikasa were watching him intently. "You killed the Titans we captured."

"Perhaps. If you're so sure I killed them, why did you wait a month to do anything?"

Armin could only stare at her in horror.

"I...I didn't want to believe it." His voice was small. "I didn't want to believe that you would plan all this." He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to look at her.

"What about _you_, Annie? Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"

She paused, as if considering the point herself.

"I don't know." She said finally. "If I had known you were this aware...I suppose I would have acted differently." Eren stepped forward.

"Annie, this isn't a goddamn joke! Come down here!"

Armin extended his hand in her direction, trying to retain some level of reason. If they could just keep her occupied...

"Look, can't we talk about this–?"

But Mikasa moved ahead of them, sword drawn.

"_Enough_." She said coldly. "This is pointless. I'll defeat you again, Female Titan."

Silence. Eren and he quickly glanced at her, then back to Annie.

Annie grinned hollowly at them, and in the brilliant contrast the shadows cast, Armin saw the very same fear that plagued him echoed in her features.

"...You don't understand." She said quietly. "I can't go down there. I've failed."

Now Eren looked to Annie with a silent, desperate plea.

And Armin saw it then, in the stricken expression of his best friend in the world. _This_ was the reason they had called him. A wave of fear washed over him, paralyzing. Mikasa must have seen the look on his face and followed his gaze. They looked at each other, then turned back to the target.

Annie turned to address him. "I'm glad I could be a good person to you. You were right about your bet. But now" – she raised her hand to her mouth, and Armin gripped the flare gun in his – "it's my turn!"

Despite the dread clouding his mind, Armin did not hesitate.

_BANG_!

The Scouts emerged from every place imaginable; the rooftops, behind walls and crates. Annie had mere seconds to react; she turned, and they had her. One caught her legs, another produced a gag, while two more held her arms.

Eren gave a yell and made to step forward, but he was held back by Mikasa.

Annie flexed her hand, and there was a distinctive _shnk_. Armin's eyes widened in comprehension, just as Mikasa took hold of his arm.

_The ring._

"_Run_!" Armin screamed in desperation, but the looks of confusion upon their faces told him that his words were delivered too late. All became a blur. The blinding flash of light behind them was the only warning they had; the screams above were silenced in the wake of cracking stone and the deafening roar of the ensuing transformation.

Now, surrounded by the dying and chaos, the realization that Eren had allied himself alongside the target hit him, harder than any physical blow.

_Oh, God._

How much had he told her? What was he going to say to him?

He had seen Eren's reluctance, brushed it off as nothing more than a trademark of his stubborn sense of loyalty to his friends, they all had...but he had never guessed that it would lead to anything like _this_.

Armin felt the bile rise in his throat, and he shuddered.

"Can you stand? _Run_!" cried Mikasa as she hauled a shaking, oddly silent Eren to his feet. Her words could not have been delivered at a better time, for no sooner had the warning left her lips that a huge, skinless hand forced its way down the tunnel, blotting out the light from above. It collided with the opposing wall and shot towards them.

The trio raced down the passageway, not daring to look behind them.

As Armin ran, his frantic thoughts became words. "She knew I was lying from the start. And she _knew_ we were going to ambush her! I—"

"Think about it later," said Mikasa, "but tell me — what's the plan?" Armin snapped out of his thoughts to the present. She was watching him intently.

_All I can do now is try and keep us together._

"Right. Join up with Team Three and get above ground, and go straight to Plan B: we fight Ann–the Female Titan." He looked at Eren. "You know what to do, right? Transform and help us capture her?" Eren gave a nod, slow and apprehensive.

Armin could just make out the tiny figures of the third Team at the end of the passageway.

"Hey! What's happening?" One shouted.

"The plan failed!" Armin called, "Move to Plan—"

But the rest of his words were lost as another deafening explosion split the air, and the members of Team Three were crushed beneath the Titan's foot. The force of the impact seemed to reverberate inside his very being. Slowly, the creature raised its foot from the tunnel, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

The three recovered from the blast. The remnants of Team Three now lay buried under the cascade of rubble. Eren recovered first, staring at the debris as if he could not comprehend the sight before him.

"We...we need to help them." He mumbled finally. Mikasa gripped his shoulder.

"Stay back." She scowled up at the opening. "What is she doing? Does she not care if Eren dies?"

Armin shook his head.

"She made that hole betting that we wouldn't get crushed in the process. It's a crazy move, but a good one." He glanced nervously down the passageway. "...What are we going to do? She's got us cornered."

Eren spoke up.

"I'll transform. Like I did with the cannons in Trost." Mikasa and Armin looked back at him. He was pale, trembling slightly, but determined. "Come here." They huddled around him. "Hold on!" They braced themselves and Eren bit into his hand with a _crunch_.

Nothing happened. Blood began to ooze from his wound.

"_Shit_!"

Armin wheeled around to find Eren on his knees, clutching his bloodied hand. Tentatively, he began.

"You can't transform if you don't have a concrete goal, right? Try again — keep the image in your mind!"

"I am!" Eren protested.

"Are you, really?" Mikasa knelt down beside him. They stared at one another for a moment. Eren looked away to continue gnawing desperately at his hand. "...Don't tell me you think you just imagined Annie to be the Female Titan!? Think about what you just saw! She was the one who killed our squadmates!"

"Shut up!" He snapped. "I'm doing it!"

For a minute, they waited. Armin stood up and surveyed each end of the tunnel with a critical eye.

"...You know it's true, don't you? So—" Mikasa gripped his shoulder "—doesn't that mean you have to fight her?" Against his better judgment, Armin looked back at his comrades; Eren wrenched his shoulder from her grasp and continued to gnaw fruitlessly at his knuckles. Mikasa went on coolly. "Or are there some sort of special feelings that are holding you back?"

Now Eren glared at her, and there was something strange in his eyes. What was it? Anger? Guilt? An unspoken acknowledgement to her claim?

A combination of dismay and utter incredulity showed on her features.

As Armin watched the pair, something clicked into place. Sensing things were about to worsen, he quickly cut in.

"I have a plan." They both turned their attention to him. He drew his blades, using one to point down the tunnel. "Mikasa and I will run down this passageway to each entrance. Annie will have to choose to deal with one of us. While that happens, you have to get out of here! The soldiers will deal with her somehow."

Eren did not take the concept well.

"What!? One of you is going to die!"

"And all three of us are dead if we stay here. Mikasa, get in position!"

"Wait—Mikasa!" But she was already running. Armin paused, knelt down to face him.

"Eren." He said quietly. "You're my friend. I won't regard you as anything less. But I want to see what's out there, beyond the walls. That was our promise. And I'm going to see it through to the end, with or without you." He stood up, turned. "Good luck."

The urge to vomit, ever present, had returned. Once more, he willed himself not to.

There was no going back now.

* * *

_A/N: More revelations and awkward plot twists!  
Chapter Three coming soon!_

_Update 10/27/14: Added a few bits of information here and there so the overall flow was less jittery. I intend this instance to be the last time I meddle in what I post. _


	5. Pursuance

_Chapter Three: Pursuance_

* * *

It was early evening when it happened.

The two of them were situated in the tiny room. Armin was seated at the table, brow furrowed slightly in a state of total concentration, jotting down notes in a tiny, year-worn book; Mikasa was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, feeling just as restless.

"Armin, is it?"

They looked up. A man stood there, clad in the traditional Regiment uniform. Armin nodded.

"Commander Erwin wanted to see you."

Armin froze, casting a troubled half-glance back at Mikasa.

"Er...now?"

"Yes. Care to accompany me?"

Armin had already sat up from the chair, hastily straightening out his shirt. "O-of course, sir!"

The two departed, and Mikasa was left alone with her thoughts. She tried counting seconds for a little while, but this lost its appeal quickly, and so she began to pace again, every once in a while chancing a restless glance at the setting sun outside the window, wondering when Armin would be back. Time seemed to slow to a crawl at the prospect of awaiting his return.

As Mikasa continued to reflect, another, disturbing thought occurred to her; why had Commander Erwin not called her in alongside Armin?

She recalled the 57th Expedition: the forest, the smell of pine and blood, the sight of Eren's form abducted by the Female Titan and the sense of utter helplessness that had overtaken her wits, then quickly given way to burning hatred. She scowled.

_Perhaps my failure has forced them to reconsider?_

Yes, that was more than possible. In her blind anger and resurging thirst for vengeance, she had ignored direct orders and caused Captain Levi to suffer ample injuries; Armin, meanwhile, had done nothing but continue to prove himself.

The thought brought forth a small surge of additional guilt and resentment, and with it, a fresh wave of shame in the wake of such childish emotion. Armin had committed no such wrong as she had. The presence of her emotional weakness vexed her.

The sound of footfalls interrupted her thoughts. Mikasa looked up to see Armin standing on the threshold, an expression of distinct unease upon his face. She regarded him furtively, hoping he could not read the leftover bitterness in her expression.

"Commander Erwin wanted a word." He clarified. She held his gaze for a moment, trying to discern what else he might be thinking, but upon gleaning little but his increased anxiety, she turned away.

"Is something the matter?" He asked, stepping into the room and taking a seat across from her.

"I think there's something wrong with Eren." If Armin had appeared uneasy before, he was all the more so upon hearing this statement.

"What do you mean?" He asked slowly, though he would not quite meet her eyes.

"He's been acting strange ever since yesterday."

"Maybe he's just worried about the mission tomorrow." He chuckled. "I know _I_ am." Mikasa frowned.

"Maybe."

But as the day of the mission came, it was clear that something _was_ wrong with Eren. He had left at the break of dawn the morning before, returned several hours later with a strange air of exultation and without so much as a word to where he had been; even Jean's goading remarks failed to bring about an anticipated retort. Today he was pale, his eyes were dull with lack of sleep, and he was not prone to have words with anyone.

Was he simply nervous about the mission, as Armin had suggested?

No. There was a different fear in his eyes, more complex than simple concern over failure. Desperation. Absolute in its subsistence, far deeper than what could be put into words. Mikasa recognized this fear because she knew it well, after years of death and suffering. It was as if an old friend had resurfaced.

But what was he afraid of?

He couldn't possibly be having second thoughts about the mission. However unsure he had been, Eren had, after all, agreed to comply with their terms. She knew her brother, more than well enough after the years they had lived alongside each other. There was simply no way he would betray that which he had fought her tooth and nail for, and certainly not over some injudicious preconception over the enemy. Mikasa knew also by the occasional, furtive looks that Armin kept flashing her that she was not alone in thinking of ulterior reasons for the sudden change in her brother's demeanor.

Yet try as she might, Mikasa could not justify the reason for such emotion. Frustrated, she joined the crowd of soldiers exiting out into the bright morning sun.

* * *

Two hours later, the group of Scouts was well on its way in the midst of Stohess. The sun was blinding, so Mikasa moved into the shade of a nearby building to wait for Armin.

She was free to reflect as she saw fit, without the distraction of others. But there was little to think about, really. Her responsibility was to ensure the success of this mission. She had failed twice before on account of her arrogance, and it would be the last time she would repeat this mistake.

Reassured, she let her thoughts drift once again to Eren's unusual behavior.

He had returned the previous evening in high spirits; the happiest she had seen him in months. The more she thought about it, the more she realized happy was not the right word – _giddy_ was a more suitable description. Today, he was anything but giddy.

There had to be more to this. They were all nervous about the mission. But the mere existence of her brother's uncharacteristic diffidence was more than enough to convince her of something more. If he was truly set on seeing the mission through to the end, then he would not hesitate for a moment. He had never once displayed such constraint when it came to furthering mankind's progress.

But Eren was hesitant. Given the most undeniable of suggestions to the enemy's identity, he had looked to them all through the eyes of a boy with everything to lose. She knew his foolish sense of loyalty, but this was profound.

And of course, it begged the question: what made Annie Leonhardt so unique?

Mikasa silently dreaded that answer. She would not dwell on the matter now. No, she thought, she would hear it from her brother's words, and his alone.

Thus, her resolve became a silent mantra.

_I will not fail again._

Armin reappeared after a few minutes.

"She's agreed to help us."

* * *

They met up with Annie in the span of half an hour and made their way to the designated checkpoint in a decent amount of time. Jean was already there, looking resigned to the worst. They watched the procession pass by them. The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness, and still there was no sign of Eren.

Her hand fiddled with the hilt of her sword beneath her cloak to discourage the beginnings of anxiousness. Any minute now.

One of the carriages stopped in front of them. Eren jumped from the rear compartment as Jean quickly moved to take his place and, with a last nervous glance back at the retreating carriage, joined them.

It hit her almost immediately that there was something very different now in the air amidst the four of them. The fear from that morning remained, yet alongside it was something entirely new. Dangerous. This feeling was not only reserved to her brother, no; both he and the target shared this unspoken sentiment.

Their situation was worse than she had predicted, then. It would have been bad enough if her brother was the only one to exhibit this sense. Now the target was returning that very same vibe.

They shared a connection.

Mikasa knew by Armin's half-glance around at the pair that he could sense it, too, though perhaps not as distinctly as she. He looked discreetly to her in silent communication, and she read the question in his eyes: _What do we do?_

For answer, she turned her gaze back to Eren.

_We see the mission through to the end._

The plan fell apart once they reached the Under City. It was clear to Mikasa that Annie was more than aware of what they intended to do. How? Commander Erwin had gone to considerable lengths to ensure that this plan would go off without a hitch. There was no time to think. There was never a good time to reminisce, she thought irritably.

That aside, she was going to have to take matters into her own hands if they were ever to succeed. So she stepped ahead of her faltering comrades, cast her cloak aside and withdrew her sword without hesitation.

"_Enough_."

She would finish what Captain Levi had started. There would be no next time, no second thought.

"This is pointless. I'll defeat you again, Female Titan."

Mikasa could not fail to acknowledge the horror etched upon Armin's face as he looked at their companion, the flash of a warning in the target's eyes. The silent imploration in her brother's posture was almost pitiful. But the enemy did not deserve pity.

And she would receive none from her.

* * *

"I have a plan." Armin used a blade to indicate his endeavor, motioning towards at opposite ends of the tunnel. "Mikasa and I will run down this passageway to each entrance. Annie will have to choose to deal with one of us." He looked at Eren. "While that happens, you have to get out of here! The soldiers will deal with her somehow."

"What!? One of you is going to die!" Eren protested.

"And all three of us are dead if we stay here. Mikasa, get in position!"

Mikasa released his arm and was halfway down to the end of the tunnel when she heard Eren cry out:

"_How are you able to fight_?"

She stopped, turned. He was only a few feet away, and even at a distance she could read the expression upon his features; guilt-ridden, hurt and unsure, like a small child separated from its parents.

There were a number of things she would have liked very much to say, but now was not the time. So she looked him dead in the eyes and uttered the phrase that she knew he would understand.

"What else can we do? This world is a cruel place."

Leaving him to ponder her statement, she continued down the tunnel. Yes, she thought, he would understand her words, better, perhaps, than anyone could. Absolute freedom had been their ultimate goal.

Now she could not help but to question the validity of her brother's motives. She had seen the terror in Armin's eyes. Eren could not have simply cast aside his lifelong dream for the sake of this girl, who was their enemy.

But there was little else that could explain his actions. She supposed Armin had simply chosen to ignore the signs, no matter how obvious they became. They all had.

The irony of this situation was almost ridiculous.

The sun was blinding after the long minutes spent in near-total darkness, and she quickly turned to look back at Eren. He was still on his knees, still clutching his hand. As she watched, he slowly raised his head and looked to where she was. His eyes found hers. The emotion within was intricate; terror, anguish, resentment, guilt, all were there.

But above all else, there was acceptance. And Mikasa knew, without a doubt, that he understood her words perfectly.

He turned his attention to the ceiling and raised a hand to his mouth. Sensing what he was about to do, she shot out towards the light of day, just as the flash of light filled the tunnel.

A great roar of sound and was all she could hear for a moment; wincing at the harshness of the sunlight, she turned as someone called her name.

"Mikasa!" She whirled around to see Armin running towards her. It was a miracle he could make himself heard over the battle raging behind them.

"What's happened?"

"Eren's decided to fight!" Armin reported breathlessly. "At least, I _think_ he has." Together they turned just in time to see the Rogue Titan take off, in hot pursuit of the Female Titan.

"We've got to cover him!" Mikasa shouted.

They took off across the rooftops. Armin quickly fell behind her, but that was not unexpected. He would catch up, eventually. The Titans, meanwhile, were quickly advancing the fight to a more open street. Mikasa grit her teeth and sped across a few more buildings, landing just in time to watch as Eren hurled the Female Titan into a building.

With a feeble lurch of her gut, she recognized the building to be the Church. The target recovered quickly, making a mad dash back into the streets. The other Scouts moved to detain the creature. The Titan swung its arm into one of the many buildings, showering chunks of debris upon its pursuers. Cries of shock rang out among the team as they scattered to avoid this offensive maneuver. Mikasa sped up, far ahead of all the chaos, cut sharply to the left and leapt off the top of the nearest building at the incoming creature. In midair, her blades flashed white in the sun, and she swung up, using the target's momentum to her advantage. Her timing came too early, leaving two deep gouges across its face next to its eye. A spray of crimson stained her uniform, skin stinging with the abnormal heat.

She landed with a thud upon the nearest roof. Armin touched down soon after.

"Good work, Mikasa!" He called. "Now go from outside her field of vision!"

_I missed_, she thought bitterly, but responded: "Understood!" She turned as he kicked off, hunched in preparation to launch once more.

_I have to take full responsibility for my actions._

Mikasa tensed. The target was moving away.

_And I'll start with you._

But as her fingers twitched upon her gas triggers, the Female Titan veered suddenly into the left street. Eren was right behind her. She followed their progress and gave a start.

_A clearing!_

Her fellow squad-mates had noticed too; four or five gathered on the rooftop she inhabited.

"We can't follow them!" One man shouted. "We'll have to go around!"

A second rounded on him. "She'll get away if we wait! We have to act _now_!"

"Split into two groups!" Hange barked. The group of Scouts spread out around the streets, forming a loose ring around the two Titans. Mikasa looked over to where Armin had finally caught up with her, wheezing.

"He seems to be in better control of himself this time, at any rate." Hange observed. Recovering, Armin glanced at her.

"What do we do?"

Hange turned to the scene before them, readjusting her glasses.

"We wait."

As they surveyed the battle, Sasha's frenzied tangent about "cornered animals" and "underestimating the forest" came back to her. She wanted to intervene somehow, but knew that it would be suicidal to do so. So she watched. Eren seemed to be holding his own; however, the Female Titan soon overtook him. But this was only for a moment, because when the dust settled, they could all see as it struggled violently against his grip, but Eren did not falter.

Relief made its presence known within the back of Mikasa's mind.

"Cut her off! NOW!"

They all rushed in, moving towards the target. The Female Titan was now attempting to pry its leg free of Eren's jaws. They were halfway to the pair when she succeeded in freeing herself.

The assembled Scouts could only pursue their target as it fled, startlingly fast despite its wounded leg. The distinct cracking of its flesh sounded before it leapt up and dug hardened fingers into the surface of Wall Sina. And as they watched in horror, it began to scale the structure with surprising speed.

"She's fast!" Armin cried, despair fueling his voice. "At this rate she's going to get away!"

Something clicked. A wave of calm overtook her anger.

_I can't let her escape._

"No, she isn't." Her voice was low.

_I_ won't_ let her escape._

And she flew.

"Wait, Mikasa! You won't make it!"

Mikasa ignored him. Her attention was fixed upon her target as she ascended with breakneck speed, the wind stinging her face. She screwed up her eyes against the pain and with a cry, slashed through the fingers of its right hand. She felt the right blade give, and realized she had dulled the left with the force of the blow.

_Damn!_

The Titan's arm fell, hanging limply at its side. Precious seconds were all she had. She discarded her right blade, doubled back, and with another expert flash of her blade, the Titan was falling. She landed atop the creature's forehead, discerned the emotion in its eyes and felt a rush, indescribable and incomparable.

"Annie," Mikasa said softly, "_fall._"

The Female Titan had already begun the descent.

* * *

A/N: And that's Ackerman down. Guess who's up next. ;)  
Also, I have 30 followers at the time of Chapter 3. I think that's kinda cool, timing-wise.  
Thank you for the wait! Read and review!


	6. Ambivalence

_Chapter Four: Ambivalence_

* * *

Eren awoke early on the day before the capture of the Female Titan was to take place, long before the majority of his comrades were awake. The minutes ticked by as he lay still, staring up at the dark ceiling. This was it. One more day till judgment fell. He sat up upon the ragged mattress.

It was now or never.

So he got up and dressed in near total-darkness, not wanting to waste whatever time he had allotted himself.

In half an hour, he was at the dock. He paid with the coins he'd brought, and boarded the ship as quickly and surreptitiously as possible. The deck was occupied by a few civilians, and that meager number was growing steadily.

Eren glanced around at them nervously. Thankfully, they did not return his gaze; in truth, they paid him very little mind. Would their indifference change if they were aware of who and what he was?

To his great relief, however, no one approached him, and the ferry was soon churning its way through the waters of Karanese without delay.

Eren found it was hard to remain at ease; his mind wandered often and he kept losing interest in favor of a sense of supreme anxiety. He dared not look over at the other passengers for fear of revealing this. _Think_, he told himself furiously. _You need to come up with a plan!_

But planning was laughable. What was he going to say to her? How, for that matter, was he supposed to find her in the midst of a sprawling city? Yes, he knew where the Military Police HQ was, but when one took into account the variety of odd jobs such a notoriously lax organization might devise, it was significantly more challenging to pin down what its members would be doing.

His best chance, then, would be to start with the main streets. If that did not yield results...well, he thought flatly, he could always ask around. Though he figured that most common citizens of Stohess were likely to remain impartial to the queries of some boy wandering the streets, and the MPs even more so. Faced with these innumerable odds, Eren felt his resolve falter for the first time that morning.

But he pushed the doubt from his mind. He would find her. He _had_ to find her, to warn her of what was coming and make a plan.

With this in mind, he glanced upwards. Clouds lay heavily across the sky, and the sun was a dim blot of illumination among them.

With a forced note of optimism, he reassured himself that he was making good time.

* * *

In a few hours the boat docked, and Eren disembarked along with the other passengers. As he looked around in the hope of spotting one of the Military Police, he noticed for the first time a lone figure amidst the departing crowd, small, clad in simple, dull robes. It was nearly impossible to tell if it was a man or woman, boy or girl. As he watched, the mysterious person looked up, and met his eyes. Before he could ascertain the identity of this figure, his concentration was broken by a shove to the back from one of the more impatient passengers. He felt a cold chill run down his spine and hastily began weaving in and out of the crowd, ignoring their exclamations of protest, now focused solely on putting adequate distance between himself and this unsettling character.

The sensation of being watched gradually dissipated. When he looked again, the person was gone. Had he simply imagined the figure to be following him?

Eren shook it off. Whatever the case was, he needed to locate Annie, sooner than later.

* * *

She saw him first. She was very much disinclined to acknowledge him with anything more than a glower before turning back to her post without so much as a second glance his way. He began to make his way over to her. Her reaction was immediate; she did a disbelieving double-take before she turned and stormed off in the direction of one of the many side streets despite her fellow MP's curious exclamation. Feeling just as nervous as he was relieved, he followed her.

The alleyway was narrow and grimy, but indistinct enough for there to be little danger of drawing unnecessary attention. When they were halfway down, Annie stopped abruptly and wheeled around to face him.

"What are you doing here?"

He answered. "I came to talk." This did not seem to impress her.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint," she retorted, "but I've nothing to say to you. Good day."

"Wait!" He shot forward and grabbed her forearm, and she froze. Knowing he only had a few seconds to clarify his actions before she did something unfortunate, he quickly moved to face her, took hold of her shoulders and hissed:

"_Listen_ to me, Annie. You're in danger."

She remained cold and derisive.

"Is that so?"

He ignored this.

"The Scouts think you're the Female Titan."

That wiped the derision off her face, if only for a moment. She swiftly reaffirmed her mask of indifference.

"They don't know where I've gone off to," He said quickly. "but the operation, the plan to capture you – it's tomorrow."

She regarded him with a certain skepticism to which he had long since grown accustomed.

"Why are you telling me this?"

His response was unflinching. "I trust you." A smirk curled her lips.

"How can you be so sure I _am_ trustworthy?"

"Well, you were never the best liar." She would not meet his eyes. Growing uneasy, he glanced back down the alley, but they were still quite alone. Reassured, he leant down to her, voice lowered to a whisper. "If all else fails, I suppose they'll hand me over to the Military Police." She remained unaffected by his words until he spoke again. "If the Regiment can provide proof that I'm not a threat to mankind, they might reconsider." Her face drained of what little color it possessed.

"Proof?" Eren nodded, taken aback by this uncharacteristic display of hesitation.

"What's the matter?" He asked quietly.

Annie shook her head. "It's nothing." He raised an eyebrow, and she added, "Nothing either of us can prevent." The statement was vague, even by her standards. "We're betraying the very people we once swore our allegiance to, you know. What's your excuse?"

There was no hesitation.

"I love you."

Annie was quiet for a long moment. Then she blinked, looked away at some distant corner of the alley, but not before he caught the brightness in her eyes. "You're a damn fool, then." Her voice quavered slightly.

He shrugged. "You don't sound very convinced."

Annie swore under her breath. "...Shut up. You're ruining the moment."

Apparently, that was as close to an acceptance as he would get. He leant down, tentatively kissed her. Her lips were chapped and surprisingly warm beneath his. Yet she did not respond. Concerned, he broke off.

"Annie—" She grabbed his face and kissed him roughly before he could finish the inquiry.

"Whatever happens" —her fingers played restlessly with the collar of his jacket, entertaining the idea without actually going through the motion— "promise me you won't do anything stupid." He muttered an agreement, but she gripped his shoulders, and he pulled back. For a moment they regarded each other.

"Your _word_, Eren."

"Yes." His tone was solemn.

She glanced down the alley as he had done, but they remained undisturbed, and she murmured: "Then we've got a few minutes."

And now he grinned.

The ensuing kiss was ardent and feverish and altogether rapturous. They tried unfastening buttons, stopped the contact only because the clasps on her uniform proved to be a touch more difficult than predicted. When this was taken care of, he pressed her back against the grimy brick. Then her arms were around his shoulders, her legs hooked around his waist and he drew her close to him. Her fingers passed through his hair, then curled in the fabric of his shirt when their hips collided.

They were frantic in their contact and clumsy, yes, but they were _alive_. Here, in this desolate side street, mere meters away from the rest of the city and its inhabitants, there was hope, if only fragile in its existence. They knew what was to come, but now was not the time to dwell on what would be. This temporary reprieve was all he could offer her.

As she trembled between him and the wall, he noted the flush blooming across her cheeks, her neck and shoulders, lower still, the pink tinge a stark contrast to her fairer complexion. She was not looking directly at him. The back of her head rested against the brick, tilted downwards. Her hair fanned out beneath her, displaced from its usual tie. Gold smeared with black. Her breath was uneven, lips parted slightly, pale eyes hazy and lidded. He slowed, focusing on this and how her gasps caught in her throat between strokes.

The change in tempo was what drew her attention. She looked up at him then, slowly, as if on the cusp of recognizing something wondrous. When she spoke, her voice was hushed and raspy — and his name was an entreatment on her lips. He was more than happy to oblige her.

It was over too soon. Annie slumped back against the wall and he fell to her, face buried in the crook of her neck, forearms splayed on either side of her head to keep from crushing her, breath rough and erratic against her skin. He felt her clutch at the back of his shirt in turn.

The distant bustle of the people of Stohess was lost to a euphoric hum that left him breathless and lightheaded. Her arms slid from around his neck. Gingerly, he let her down. Annie shivered weakly as her feet touched solid ground again. Seeing this, Eren moved to embrace her. Time had not quite frozen over, but it had slowed in the presence of this tentative discovery.

"You should go." She said quietly. "Don't want to keep them waiting." He released her partially, taking in her disheveled appearance and wondering, vaguely, how he must look watching her do up the buttons on her shirt.

"What about you?"

She replied without pause. "I'll manage." He was quiet for another moment, then:

"Annie?"

She looked up at him. There were a number of things Eren wanted to say to her — _be careful, do you have a plan, what are you going to do when we're all outside Wall Sina?_

Unsure of how to properly articulate this, he took hold of her shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to her mouth. Then he was off, down the alley towards the street.

As he ran, he fumbled hastily in a last ditch effort to try and appear less suspicious before he reached the street, though he doubted it would make much difference.

The sun was high above the sky, a glaring white stain among the clouds.

It was getting later.

The journey back to port was nothing short of hellish. Every face that turned in his general direction sent a new shot of paranoia through him. His pace quickened. He had never been this terrified of regular citizens in his life.

His fear only intensified as he became aware of the garnered attention of curious onlookers. Seized by a new burst of panic, he broke into a run. He did not care what his behavior looked like anymore; he had to return to Karanese as soon as possible.

As the port came into sight, he slowed. What would he do when he returned? He had been gone for hours; the Scouts had to know by now that he was missing.

What would they think? Did they know where he'd been? In a futile resistance against the guilt gnawing at his insides, Eren prayed they didn't.

* * *

He made it back near evening.

Jean, Mikasa, Armin, and a few other Scouts were gathered around one of the tables in the mess hall, deep in conversation. Thankfully, they had not seen him. He was about to try and sneak past them when he heard something that made him pause.

"I don't know where the Captain is."

Captain Levi was missing? He hadn't noticed. Then again, he hadn't exactly lingered around the premises to verify this.

Eren was halfway across the room when he was accosted.

"And where the hell have _you_ been?" Jean snapped. He stopped mid-stride. The group's eyes were all trained on him, curious to see what he would do. "The plan's tomorrow. I'd have thought even an idiot like you might think to take some caution."

In response, and to everyone's surprise, Eren turned to them all and grinned broadly. Feeling immensely satisfied at the look of total indignation on the other boy's face, he turned and practically skipped the rest of the way down the hall.

He heard Jean's scoff before he left, then the irritable statement:

"Do I look like I know what's wrong with him? Because I _don't_."

He arrived at the basement in lighthearted silence. The instant he set foot into the room, he felt relief wash over him. He was back. He had done what needed to be done. He walked over to the bed with the purpose to lie down for a while when something caught his attention. A figure moved out of the corner of his eye. Startled, he spun around to face the intruder, only to realize he was staring down his own reflection.

His chest gave an odd lurch as he took in the appearance of the fellow on the opposite side of the mirror. Thoroughly unkempt, clothes and skin smudged with dirt, hair tousled.

Another observation, previously trivial, now hit him: _where _was_ Captain Levi?_ He was usually close at hand, always lurking round the corridors. But as he gave it more thought, the reality of the Captain's absence became all the more frightening. Why had he been missing?

Maybe the Captain was off today.

But that was highly unlikely. Levi was more apt to remain nearby, especially with the mission closing in on all of them tomorrow.

Had Levi been the mysterious figure on the ferry? If so, did that mean they knew? Had he endangered Annie as a result of this?

Or was he just being paranoid?

After all, what reason would Captain Levi have to be in Stohess?

* * *

Guilt ate at him all through the night, and by that next morning, the elation that had possessed him was gone. He had no way to prove this suspicion with words or facts, but he knew innately that he had been found out. That was the very worst of it. Listless and terrified, he could not bring himself to converse with any of the other Scouts. They observed his uncharacteristic silence through their own disquiet. Despite the lack of eye contact between them, he was aware of Mikasa's gaze fixed on the back of his head. Oftentimes it would waver, but soon she was back to studying him once more. Armin would join her occasionally, but his attention was not as easily focused.

As one of the officials notified the hall that it was time to head out, he rose quickly, grateful for an excuse to get away from her and the rest of the Scouts for a little while.

The group formed a modest escort party ― after all, the horses could only take them so far. At the designated checkpoint ― an old, abandoned storage shed ― they quietly loaded him into the back of one of the many, tiny carriages lying around. It was stuffy and cramped, completely dark save for a few beams of sunlight that filtered in through the crevices in the covered windows. A scruffy and bespectacled man across from him handed him a spare cloak, and Eren took it from him wordlessly.

He slipped it around his shoulders and sat back in the dark, wondering where his friends were. It was most likely that they were awaiting his arrival.

And where was Annie? Had the others already tried to convince her? Would she even go along with the plan, now that she was armed with knowledge?

When the carriage halted abruptly, the man saw him out with a nod. Eren sprung from the compartment into the blazing sun, screwed up his eyes against the light and hurried over to where the three were already waiting for him. He offered Mikasa and Armin a nervous sort of half-grin before he turned his eyes on the miscellaneous people ahead of them; he didn't trust himself to look at Annie. When he did so, it was only to follow along as she and Armin held a quiet conversation regarding strategy.

Then they were there, at the entrance to the Under City. Eren followed the other two down into the mouth of the tunnel. As they descended, he wondered if the plan actually was going to work.

Something told him it wouldn't. What would the two of them be, then? Traitors. Or were they already guilty of treason?

Armin stopped, and looked back. Annie had not moved from the top of the stairs and stood there, still, watching the three of them with a cold, disturbing sort of confidence.

And within the timeframe of that ensuing conversation, the plan ― both plans ― quickly fell apart.

He couldn't bring himself to comprehend the scene unfolding before him, at first. This had to be a joke; a sick, twisted joke. Yet the stalemate dragged on, and slowly, it dawned on him that the whole situation had escalated far beyond anyone's control. The question of whether he could or couldn't convince her was insignificant.

There was still a chance to avoid the entire catastrophe altogether. He had formulated the beginnings of such an idea while upon the boat, trapped with his thoughts for company, and he'd meant to bring it up, he really _had_, but they both got caught up in the moment, and any suggestion to mention said plan was quickly sidelined.

Eren wanted to shout at her to run, to simply join them in the tunnel while she still had a chance, tell her that there was no need to go along with whatever plan she had obviously formulated in the time between their meeting and the present. But he already knew she wasn't going to heed his words, unvoiced or otherwise.

They both knew that the city was seconds away from turmoil. He had brought the very definition of Hell into the heart of Stohess, and the rest of them would pay for his unthinkable crime with the blood of hundreds of innocent civilians.

_You don't have to do this_, he thought desperately, beseechingly, trying to communicate in silence all he could not say. _You don't have to do _any_ of this, just come down here!_

He was dimly aware of many small things around them; the twitch in Mikasa's wrist as her grip tightened on the hilt of her blade, concealed, for the moment, beneath her cloak; the total horror with which Armin regarded him as this shift in alliances finally dawned upon him; the sharp, near-imperceptible look of warning Annie cast him.

After all, he was trapped by his own agreement.

_Promise me you won't do anything stupid._

Her request had been deceptively simple at the time.

And then it all came together in pandemonium. It was all a blur, really. Armin's hand shot up with a frantic movement as he fired the flare gun.

Shouts echoed among the group of Scouts as they rushed in to contain the target. Annie turned, and they had her. Eren made to move forward on some incongruous impulse and Mikasa flung her arm out in anticipation of his intentions.

The four stared each other down. He tried one last time to persuade her with silent imploration.

_You don't have to do this._

For a fraction of a second, he saw something that might have been hesitance flit across her eyes, and in that instant her whole body seemed to falter incrementally. The emotion was easily overlooked in the midst of the chaos, but it was there in wake of his final, despondent request.

Then indecision gave way to anguish veiled in newfound resolve, and Annie flexed her hand. There was a distinctive, metallic sound and something small on her finger flashed in the sun. Before he could understand what was happening Mikasa grabbed him roughly by the back of the collar and dragged Armin and him down into the tunnel despite his protests.

They could not have made it sooner; the force of the explosion behind them sent a handful of men flying after them, colliding with the adjacent wall in a mess of indiscernible gore.

Mikasa compelled him to stand by pulling him to his feet. The three of them sprinted down the tunnel, away from the skinless hand that aimed to seize them. Events seemed to be occurring in a haze. He was aware that he was running, aware of Armin and Mikasa beside him, but unable to concentrate fully on their words. The monstrous hand could not follow them, so it scratched at the walls as they kept on running.

The capture had failed. And so, it seemed, had his efforts.

He was drawn back to the present by the sound of Armin's voice.

"You know what to do, right? Transform and help us capture her?"

Eren nodded slowly, hating himself for having the audacity to agree when he had already doomed them all.

He could spot a couple members of Team Three standing about restlessly, but as they approached, they sprang to attention.

"Hey! What's happening?"

"The plan failed! Move to Plan—"

But Armin never got to reveal the rest of his plan to them, because that was when the two soldiers were crushed underfoot. The Female Titan raised its foot from the tunnel, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

The remains of Team Three lay underneath the debris. A thought finally occurred to him.

"We...we need to help them." Eren mumbled. Mikasa gripped his shoulder.

"Stay back." She scowled up at the opening. "What is she doing? Does she not care if Eren dies?"

While Armin explained the logic behind Annie's actions, Eren continued to reflect on the Hell he had unleashed upon Stohess. Surrounded by the dead and dying, spurred onwards by the muffled screams and distant tremors, the uncertainty and the iniquity eating him alive, he spoke.

"I'll transform. Like I did with the cannons in Trost."

Armin and Mikasa looked to him with uncertainty, and he did not waver.

"Come here." They gathered round him. He brought his hand to his mouth, pale but steady. "Hold on!"

Teeth punctured flesh, muscle and nerves and came to a stop with a horrible _crunch_. He felt the bone splinter beneath his jaws.

The other two braced themselves, expecting the burning heat and terrible sounds that signified his transformation into a Titan.

Instead, there was a ringing silence.

_No._

Blood rushed to fill his mouth, warm and coppery. He gasped in surprise, choked, drew his hand back in shock. There was no steam rising from his wounds.

_Not now, please, not _now—!

He had never realized just how much it hurt. It was a raw sort of pain, and he clenched his hands until his knuckles were white and his nails pierced his palms, but still it licked at him. Overwhelmed with physical and psychological agony, Eren sank to his knees. His cry of frustration, of sorrow and tribulation, was what broke the spell. He heard Armin's voice, quiet and tentative.

"You can't transform if you don't have a concrete goal, right? Try again — keep the image in your mind!"

"I am!" Eren protested, voice cracking with effort.

"Are you, really?" Mikasa knelt down beside him, and as he looked at her it was uncomfortably clear that she knew better. Eren looked away to continue gnawing desperately at his hand. "...Don't tell me you think you just imagined Annie to be the Female Titan!? Think about what you just saw! She was the one who killed our squadmates!"

"Shut up!" He snapped. "I'm doing it!"

Fear had compelled him to act. But he couldn't do it.

He did not want to recall what had taken place days ago in the forest. He did not want to remember the fate that had befallen Petra, Oluo, Gunther and Eld. His desire to remember the meeting two days ago was scarcer still. The assembled Scouts had watched him with everything ranging from confusion to tired pity to unease on their faces as he had tried, hopelessly, to defend her.

_"What will we do if it's not Annie?"_

_"Then she'll be clear of suspicion."_

_"Well, I _would_ feel bad for her in that case. ...But if we don't do anything, you'll just end up a scapegoat for the ones in power, Eren."_

"...You know it's true, don't you? So—" Mikasa gripped his shoulder "—doesn't that mean you have to fight her?" He wrenched himself from her grasp and continued to gnaw fruitlessly at his knuckles. She went on coolly. "Or are there some sort of special feelings that are holding you back?"

He stopped, looked at her with a cold anger.

_What does it matter to you?_

A combination of dismay and utter incredulity showed on her features.

"I have a plan." Armin used a blade to indicate his endeavor, motioning towards at opposite ends of the tunnel. "Mikasa and I will run down this passageway to each entrance. Annie will have to choose to deal with one of us." He looked at Eren. "While that happens, you have to get out of here! The soldiers will deal with her somehow."

"What!? One of you is going to die!" Eren protested.

"And all three of us are dead if we stay here. Mikasa, get in position!"

Mikasa released his arm.

Before Armin left, he spoke to him. Two words registered through the haze.

_Good luck._

And then he was running, too. Eren called out to Mikasa, begged her to tell him for what cause they were fighting. She stopped as Armin had, turned to him. But she was devoid of any pity as she spoke.

_What else can we do? This world is a cruel place._

This wasn't what he wanted.

They were already running, and he was still here, on his knees in desperate defiance to the truth that could not—would not be evaded.

Mikasa was right about this, he knew. Armin had wished him well.

How could they say these things? They knew.

But they had faith in him. He deserved none of it, and yet still they were with him. They clung to whatever fragile belief they held for him.

He must fight for their sakes.

He could not fight her—but what choice did he have? What choice did any of them have, for that matter? Armin and Mikasa had decided what they would fight for. Annie had. Why couldn't he do the same?

The situation was not appropriate to fall in love with the enemy, not when there were hundreds counting on him.

A loud rumbling sound broke him from his frenzied thoughts.

The tunnel was nearing total collapse.

He did not look at Armin — he couldn't see him, anyways — so he turned to Mikasa, instead. She detected his attention and looked back at him. There was nothing overt in her expression. No resentment, no bitterness. Just expectancy. She nodded before turning to the hole in the tunnel.

Her message was clear.

As he looked down at himself, he realized something. They had never ordered him to kill her, only to capture her. He would do this, for the Scouts and the citizens of Stohess, but for her sake more than anything, because it was the only way he could think to save her. So Eren raised his eyes to the ceiling, and brought his bleeding hand to his mouth.

And his objective was clear.

_I have to stop you, Annie._

The darkness was abated.

* * *

Eren was struck by how acutely aware he was of everything around him, conscious of the screams of the dying and the deafening crack of stone as he burst through, destroying the foundation. He wondered if Armin and Mikasa had made it out alive.

He could see the ruins of the street already, the browns and blacks and spattered crimson blooming with a violent intensity behind his vision. He watched as the Female Titan it raised its hands to the back of its neck, the flesh already hardened over with that crystalline substance in anticipation of an attack.

But he was ready. He knew how to fight in situations like this — they had all been taught well at the Academy — and of course, Annie had given him more than a few helpful pointers.

So he leapt at her, prepared to use techniques he really hadn't given much thought until now. (He thought, inexplicably, of Reiner's talks about becoming real soldiers.) But she anticipated this, and, keeping one hand firmly upon her nape, struck out in kind, and he was quickly pushing forward with everything he had. There was no time to think. It was all he could do to respond in time to her blows; the only thought he could muster was that she had definitely been holding back during their days as cadets. One string of particularly violent attacks ended when she slammed him against one of the buildings, leaving him momentarily dazed and open — she could stop him right in his tracks if she wished. He braced himself for the killing blow.

But it didn't come.

It was a bluff. By the time he realized this, she had already taken off, disappearing down the street. He rushed to tail her. This proved to be less difficult than he imagined; she ducked into streets and under the small figures of the Regiment that zoomed around her, yet all the while she ran at his pace. They flitted in and out of his vision, always from the sides and around buildings, like a scant flock of green-clad birds. She turned around another street and slowed to a halt.

Noticing this, he took advantage of her pause, buckled down and tore towards her.

She turned just as he got under her and finally struck a blow that sent her flying into one of the more extravagant structures. A cacophony of voices screamed over the din of the destruction. When the dust settled, the Female Titan froze, looked down at something he couldn't see, then drew itself to its feet and took off running again.

The Scouts closed in again, but the Female Titan swung its arm into one of the buildings, sending a shower of debris raining down upon them as they scattered for cover.

Second after this, a tiny figure flew past its head and a shower of blood erupted across the Titan's face.

_Mikasa!?_

He had no time to verify his guess. They approached a more open space and she wheeled around mid-step in preparation to face him. Her hand flew out and she dug her fingers into a nearby building, skidding to a halt. His own Titan gave a roar and he drove its hands into the ground to stop his process.

They stared each other down. For the first time during the chase through Stohess, he could think.

And so he observed her. She raised her arms, assumed her traditional stance. A series of cracks sounded as her left leg crystallized.

Was she waiting for him to make the first move? That was fine. He crouched, and advanced. She moved to join him.

_Just like old times, then?_

He jumped up and she retaliated immediately with a kick that went clean through his leg. He regained his balance with difficulty, pushed himself off of one of the buildings and kept advancing.

And something changed in her whole stance. She was easing up, right in the middle of the battle. She threw two punches when she should have three, fell back when she easily could have sent him hurtling into a building or broken every bone in his Titan's body, or kicked his head off again.

In fact, as she wound up and he saw her leg encased in the same blue crystal, he knew that was what she intended to do.

But it also offered him an opening. And he brought his jaws down at the right moment.

_What are you fighting for? What could possibly be worth all this death and destruction!?_

He would not let go. She brought her fist down hard on his Titan's skull and he felt the impact run through the shell.

"Cut her off! NOW!"

She was panicking, raining a desperate string of blows on his head, still to little avail. He heard her Titan emit a scream of frustration. She took hold of his face and dug hardened fingers into his jaws, like an animal caught in a trap.

Prying her wounded leg free of him, she turned and ran.

_Get up._

His shell would not obey.

_Get up, damn it!_

Eren rose with agonizing slowness, staggered to his feet. His Titan's leg was still healing, but stable enough to support him if he didn't put too much pressure on it. The distant cries of the others alerted him. He broke into a run, a haphazard plan already forming in his mind.

The Female Titan was scaling the wall. As he watched, it lost its grip upon the surface of Wall Sina and toppled backwards. Now she was falling.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Seconds became minutes, hours, days, weeks, years as Annie continued to fall, until the Female Titan hit the ground with a sickening _CRACK!_

Now she lay, broken and bloodied. There was little time now. He leant down, took hold of the back of its neck in his mouth and tore away the skin as carefully as he dared. The triumphant cries of the Regiment were little more than white noise to his ears. There was a burst of steam as he freed himself. The note of achievement in the voices around him quickly turned to confusion as he ripped himself from his disintegrating body. A new surge of adrenaline stirred him to action.

Eren burst free with a strangled yell and a spray of blood. Almost immediately he regretted this haste; his skin was already raw beneath his blood-slicked clothing, and the steam from their Titans was excruciating. Through the pain, the thought re-formed in his mind: _get to Annie._

He stumbled down to the edge of his Titan's body and jumped. He landed on two feet, collapsed briefly on all fours. His body protested as he scrambled across the disintegrating form of her Titan to where the steam became thickest. Without hesitation, he plunged both arms into the nape, suppressing a scream as he came into contact with the burning flesh.

She was alive. Covered in blood and slime and angry pink patches, but breathing. As he dragged her from the bleeding nape, Annie snapped to consciousness with a violent gasp. Eyes wide, she scanned the hazy outline of their surroundings before she focused on him.

"What are you _doing_?" She began, but he hugged her tightly, momentarily driving protest from her lungs.

"I'm going to help you." Eren muttered. Annie drew back, taking in his bloody form.

"You can't―"

"I'll think of something."

Annie made a small, mirthless noise. "We're _surrounded_, in case you haven't noticed." He glanced back, and saw the steam had all but dissipated. More than a dozen Scouts encircled them. He recognized Jean, Armin, and Hange among the faces in the crowd. Mikasa was not among them.

There was a universal horror upon each of their faces. And slowly, he recalled that he was not just a traitor to the King, but now a traitor to his friends and everything he had once fought for as far as the rest of the world was concerned. What would the Regiment do to them? To _her_?

Something sank, icy-cold in the pit of his stomach.

"Eren."

Her voice was distant to his ears as fear pounded in his chest.

"_Eren_. Look at me." With a tremendous effort, he did so. Annie moved close, close enough that he wondered for a brief moment if she was going to kiss him. Then her lips were at his jaw, and he could hear her breathing shallowly at his ear. "I'm going to try something." She whispered. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." As she moved back, her eyes flickered from his face to the group of Scouts waiting for them.

"You need to go, Eren."

"I won't leave you like this." He muttered fiercely, gripping her hand for added emphasis.

A faint smile graced her blood-soaked features. He felt her hand squeeze his.

"I'll be alright." She said quietly.

Her grip slackened, and it was with utmost reluctance he let her go.

To his horror and shock, she grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him, hard. He hit the ground, shouted: "Ann—"

But the rest of his words were lost in another explosion of light and energy, not orange, but blue. Tiny blue crystals snaked out from the carcass, moving past him; The Scouts reaffirmed his shock with cries of their own as the miniature crystals spread like fire.

He wheeled about. An enormous crystalline structure stood in the aftermath of the explosion.

He forced himself to stand, staggering towards it.

"No—"

They were closing in now.

"Hey." He looked up. Captain Levi stood there. His lips moved, but he couldn't discern what words he spoke. The roar of the explosion still rang inside his head, and as his adrenaline was fading, sleep threatened to overtake him.

Overcome with the familiar exhaustion, with horror, with shock, and grief and a hundred other emotions he was too tired to name, Eren allowed the darkness to claim him.

* * *

When he woke again, an indeterminable amount of time had passed. He was staring up at a wooden ceiling. A faint breeze brushed over his skin. He bolted upright and immediately a wave of dizziness overtook him.

"Don't push yourself." A thin hand gripped his shoulder and gently pushed him back.

_Mikasa? _Sounds were muted.

"...Is she still in the crystal?"

No one answered him. He sat up on the bed, slowly this time.

"You'd think that after all we did to get her back, we'd have something to show for our efforts." Jean said.

"It's humbling how far she's willing to go to keep secrets." said Armin quietly.

Jean grunted. "More like infuriating."

There was a pause.

"Why did you do it, Eren?" The other two looked to Armin, who did not seem fazed by their attention as he went on, quietly and coolly. "You let her go."

There was no need to state who _she_ was.

What was he supposed to tell them? The truth? _I wanted to help her._ Yes, they would surely embrace such an appalling concept. He stared fixedly at his hands and struggled to come up with an explanation that would not completely shake their faith in him.

"Do what? The hell are you on about?" Jean snapped, looking uncertainly from him to Armin. Armin closed the book on his lap with a soft _thump_.

"Armin Arlert?" They looked up. A few men stood in the doorway. Armin raised a hand. "And Jean Kirstein. They've called you down for questioning." Armin glanced at Jean.

"Of course, sir." The two boys followed the group out. Jean lingered for a second by the entryway, then followed.

Mikasa watched them go until Eren spoke again.

"I remember how it felt, Mikasa. The nothingness. And I..." He trailed off, unsure whether or not it would be appropriate to reveal the next part. "...I remember how I wanted to stay that way. Forever."

He felt the discomfort in her gaze.

"I'm fine now, though." He reassured her. "Nothing to worry about."

A long, heavy silence fell. Mikasa bowed her head, took his free hand in both of her own. He noticed she was trembling.

"...I'm glad you're alright." Her voice was quiet, slightly muffled.

He let her hold his hand in silence, until he drifted back into unconsciousness.

* * *

_A/N: Woo-hoo! Another one down! This was pretty challenging to write, because where Armin and Mikasa retained their own set scenarios from the main story, Eren had a lot more to establish. (So did Annie!) One of my favorite parts about this chapter was the opportunity to further explore all the little nuances that I'd been hinting at back in the previous chapters; then to watch how the characters reacted off of his interpretations in turn._

_I hope you all had as much fun reading this as I did writing it!_

...

_I guess it's not too risky to mention that Commander Erwin is going to be the center of the next chapter. Read and review, if you would! :)_


	7. Inquisition

_Chapter Four-Point-Five: Inquisition_

* * *

Erwin walked down the hall and stopped by one of the doors, whereupon he raised a hand and rapped a knuckle upon it.

Footsteps sounded from within, then the door opened to reveal Mikasa. He could see Eren as well, still bedridden. Mikasa looked up at him in surprise as he addressed her.

"Good evening."

Eren stirred at the sound of his voice. Mikasa stood frozen.

"Commander Erwin?"

He smiled. "Yes. We'd like a word with Eren."

"Alone." Levi added.

She blinked. Her hand loosened its grip on the door.

"Oh. Of course, sir." She stood back to let them in, departing without another word.

Erwin took up the chair she had occupied before. Levi leant back against the wall, arms folded. As soon as the door closed behind her, Erwin began.

"I trust you're feeling better?"

Eren nodded. "Well enough, sir."

"Good to hear." The boy hesitated under this light tone of conversation. Erwin leant forward, fingers interlocked in his lap. "I have something to ask of you."

"Sir?"

"I want you to lay low. Allow yourself to heal. And you will not, for any reason whatsoever, speak to anyone regarding the relationship between yourself and Annie Leonhardt."

Eren's reaction was predictable. He bolted upright, blurted:

"What? How do you—"

"We know many things, Jaeger." Levi said. "Believe me, watching you has often been one of the more exciting parts of my job."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eren shot back.

Levi said nothing to this at first, but stared at him coolly. Then he sighed, inclined his head towards the door.

"Move along, Ackerman."

There came a great deal of scuffling from the other side of the wall. Levi looked back at Eren. "I assure you, the only thing that's keeping you alive is the fact that no sane man could possibly fathom the extent of your ignorance."

"And it would be beneficial to us all to keep it that way." Erwin added. "After everything you've done today, I assume you will understand why we've taken these precautions. You did us a great service."

"I don't—"

"Do yourself a favor and let him talk." said Levi curtly. Eren sat back, glared at him. Levi only raised an eyebrow.

"It'll make sense after a few weeks." Erwin stated. "For now, you will recuperate."

"What about Annie?"

The corner of Levi's mouth twitched despite himself. Erwin sat back.

"Your friends have not misled you. She is, as far as we can tell, still encased within that crystal. As for her motives, well...your guess is as good as mine. We haven't been able to get anything out of her."

"So what's going to happen to her now?"

Levi sighed exaggeratedly through his nose. Erwin merely smiled.

"You needn't worry about that, Eren. I can assure you, she's quite safe in our custody. Though I will admit your concern is not entirely without merit. You may recall your experience with the captain of the Military Police at your tribunal."

"The man who tried to have me shot?"

"Nile Dawk. Given his reaction to you, I'm sure you can imagine what his people might wish to do to someone as powerful as she, given the opportunity."

Eren said nothing. Erwin extended a hand.

"I'm glad we could come to an understanding."

The boy took it warily. Erwin shook it, released him, stood and left. Levi was close behind him.

He could sense the other man's unease. He entered one of the empty rooms.

"Are we really going to put our lives in the hands of a lovestruck child?" Levi asked, unable to conceal the incredulity in his tone. "With all due respect, sir, I don't think he should be trusted."

"Do you honestly believe that I would do this without some kind of backup?" Erwin sighed. "I ask that you have a little more faith in me, Levi."

"Alright. So who have you picked to be your abettor?"

"Armin."

"Arlert? Isn't he a bit close to him?"

"He understood my intentions. He has agreed to assisst me further."

"And how is he going to do that?"

"He'll watch Eren. Collaborate with Hange. We need to learn as much about his Titan abilities as we are able-"

The door burst open.

"Commander Erwin!" The two men turned. A third man stood there, winded and wrought with terror. "Wall Rose...Wall Rose has been breached!"

* * *

_A/N: Another short one. I want to be careful, because we don't know much about Erwin yet._

_Chapter Five is going to be interesting, though. Stay tuned!_


	8. Vocation

_Chapter Five: Vocation_

* * *

_A/N: Parts of this chapter probably won't make complete sense unless you've read Chapters 63-64 of the manga, which isn't in official print yet, but you can find it online (Crunchyroll streams chapters for free). And if you _don't_ know (or don't want to know) what happens in the manga...well, this might be mildly confusing. All I'll say is this: there's a good reason Bertholdt and Reiner want to capture Krista._

_I also want to point out it's not _completely_ necessary; it just helps fill in some blanks. Just a friendly warning. :) With that said, let's begin!_

* * *

The four Shifters were in the trees. The sun was sinking fast in the distance, and a cool breeze persevered across the higher altitude.

Sunset was drawing near.

From his perch on one of the higher branches, Bertholdt glanced nervously down at Ymir and Eren, elbowing Reiner to call his attention, voice low:

"Should we trust Ymir?" Reiner followed his gaze. "Her Titan is faster than both of us. If she gets any kind of chance to overtake us, who's to say she won't seize it? And," Bertholdt lowered his voice further still, "she was the one who ate Marcel. Remember?"

Reiner glanced at her. "Yes. And that's exactly _why_ I trust her. She must've been a lot like us, just waiting for the chance to free herself..." He trailed off. Ymir looked up, raised her eyebrows, and calmly went on examining her arm. She had nearly healed completely. "...And then she met someone she valued more than her own miserable life."

Krista.

Bertholdt looked back at his companion. "What are you now, Reiner?"

"I'm a Warrior. And besides, I have better reasons to bring Krista along than her good looks. Remember the religious folk who came to inspect us?"

Bertholdt did. Annie had tailed them after they'd left the training grounds to have some quiet conversation regarding a girl named Krista Lenz.

She had afterwards identified them as men of the Church―more specifically, she'd called them Wallists. While obviously unfamiliar to both her and Reiner, the title struck a chord with Bertholdt.

"She's important to the Wallist family." Reiner stated. "If Eren's not the Coordinate, then our mission isn't over yet. And if we've got Krista, it should be much easier to find what we're looking for."

It occurred to Bertholdt, then, how Reiner's knowledge of the true purpose of Krista Lenz was truly imprecise at best. How Annie must be similarly misinformed.

He wondered, not for the first time, how much Ymir knew. It unsettled him.

So he changed the subject.

"Just think, Reiner. All we'll need to do is bring Annie, Krista and...you-know-what, back with us." He paused, as if finding his thoughts. "And then we'll have completed our duties. We're almost home."

Reiner grinned. "Don't get too ahead of yourself; we've only got an hour's head-start."

He nodded. "Aye."

Bertholdt had never liked waiting around for the enemy to make the first move. They were all trapped on the very outskirts of a forest of giant trees, surrounded by Aberrants, and while this was not the best of locations to come up with a plan, he found himself thinking the situation through, nevertheless.

They had one hour. They would need to capture Krista quickly and efficiently. Sundown was not for a while, and even so, the Scouts would not just sit around idly and wait for them to escape.

If Eren could find it within himself to cooperate (Bertholdt almost smiled at the ridiculousness of that suggestion) it would make their plan operate much more smoothly. Perhaps he could be convinced? He could always mention Annie; Eren had seemed more than a little fond of her.

The only question left to him was how to go about this. (Where was Annie, now? Still in the custody of the Regiment?) He could not offer too much information; he needed to appear knowledgeable, even though he knew only about as much as Eren, if not less. If Reiner were able, he'd know to be quiet and let him handle this.

_Perhaps we could rescue her together_.

Yes, that would work. A little tempering, and he could, at the very least, catch the boy off guard.

On the other hand, Ymir was a serious threat. She was a wildcard just as much as Eren, but unlike him, she knew how to keep her mouth shut and use her demeanor to her advantage. And while she didn't know all the details, he would not put it past her to start piecing together clues. If she got to Eren first, they would most certainly fail.

He would act while they had time. He turned to where Eren was, and established eye contact. Eren glared venomously at him. Bertholdt only smiled, took a breath and opened his mouth to speak when Reiner placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait." Bertholdt said. "I've a proposal for you, Eren, if you'd listen. I promise, it'll be worth your time."

"Why should I listen to _you_?" Eren spat at him.

"Because we can help you."

That got him. He let out a bark of laughter.

"Oh, really? That's funny, coming from a couple of murdering bastards!"

Reiner cast an incredulous side-glance at him, but Bertholdt went on, "We can talk about the details later. You'll need to come with us, you understand? The safety of your allies may depend on your willingness to cooperate."

That shut the boy up. Bertholdt figured it would only be a matter of time before he tried something foolish.

"Whatever you're doing," Reiner muttered, "it isn't working."

"Then take care of him yourself."

"I doubt he's going to listen to anything I have to say."

Bertholdt smiled thinly. "Are you insinuating you can't hold your own against a boy, Reiner?"

Reiner grunted. "Since when did you start talking like one of our officers?"

Bertholdt re-checked his gear for what must have been the fiftieth time. "Someone needs to take charge."

"You sound like Annie." Bertholdt ignored this. Fiftieth examination, fiftieth reprisal of successful operation. Reiner exhaled slowly, through his teeth. "Look, you...you might want to have a talk with her. When we get back."

Bertholdt paused, tone light despite the faintest chill in his gut. "What's to talk about?"

Reiner grinned, but the good cheer was forced. "You know what I mean. And besides, we're all traitors here, aren't we? Who else but one of us could understand?"

Bertholdt glanced back down at the other two. He knew from Ymir's expression that she had noticed the way his gaze lingered on Eren.

Reiner might have missed it, though.

* * *

_It was 1849. Mid-December at the Military Academy. The winter had been harsh, but the weather was often cruel during its seasonal extremes. The windows were, consequentially, frosted over, and a sharp chill persisted within the room._

_While many of their fellow cadets were bundled up in layers, Bertholdt was largely unaffected; being a Shifter had its perks. Though, he thought acquiescently, the reassurance of warmth in the bitter cold did not begin to outweigh the sacrifices he had undertook to reach this state._

_The sound of the door broke his thoughts. He looked up, expecting Reiner, and was thoroughly surprised to see Annie instead. Hadn't she been outside with the others?_

_She approached him coolly, as if this was just another battle and he was some nameless enemy, expecting her to strike first. But there was a strained quality to her coolness. He sat up, torn between unease and amusement at the dead-set fortitude in her expression._

_"What's the ma—?"_

_She moved suddenly. Her hands were clenched at his shoulders, and she crushed her mouth against his before he could get the rest of his words out. The act was rough and desperate, and lasted all of five seconds before Bertholdt pushed her away._

_"A―Annie?"_

_She wouldn't look at him. She glared intently at a point above his right shoulder. He could not help but stare at her in his uncertainty. She looked younger somehow, vulnerable._

_Bertholdt was the older, responsible one. He allowed her to get her bearings, gently dissuading her further attempts. She leant across his shoulder and hugged him._

_Inexplicably, the weight of her form nestled against him enkindled a vicissitude in him._

_He could not deny his loneliness. But he couldn't do this. He couldn't be this selfish. They were all lonely. Friendship and family and love were not a part of their lives anymore._

_It was easier for him. He was used to loneliness, more so than the other two could possibly imagine. He knew it would probably remain so for the rest of his life._

_And yet he permitted her to kiss him again. She took his hands in hers and brought them to her shoulders._

_She looked up at him. She wanted him to touch her._

_He did as she requested and nothing more. He asked her no questions, and she was likewise content to remain silent. He chose, momentarily, to disregard the fact that she was only fifteen, that she was young and hurt and confused; he pushed aside the notion that he was several years older and that everything about this simple act of intimacy was wrong._

_Because this wasn't about him. It was never about him. It wasn't about cold or reciprocating love or anything his mind might try to conceive._

_She didn't love him, but that was all right, that was fine. She needed what he represented._

_And Bertholdt understood. He had known for weeks. He'd seen her let her guard down. He didn't need Reiner's ill-advised quips to understand that she was at the lowest point he had seen her in years._

_She was gone the next morning. She never came back again - but no matter - everyone __knew what she'd done._

* * *

Hours afterward, when Reiner, Ymir and he regained their bearings upon Wall Maria, bathed in moonlight, Bertholdt's mind was free to ponder.

"Sh-shit," Ymir mumbled, still breathing hard. "Why...the hell...did I even come back...?"

Reiner looked over at her. "Why _did _you come with us?"

"You can't return to your little settlement empty-handed, can you? I'm your peace offering."

Reiner said nothing to this for a moment. "If you're planning on making some escape, now's the time to do it."

Ymir emitted a low, bitter sort of laughter, wheezing, "The hell are you suggesting? I don't give a shit about running anymore, you understand? I'm tired of running."

Another period of silence settled.

Bertholdt was the first to break it.

"Ymir? Why did you rescue me?"

"If you hadn't come to break down the gates all those years ago, I'd have been trapped for the rest of my life. All I did was repay a debt."

The ease of her tone was disturbing.

"Thank you, Ymir." His voice cracked slightly. "...I'm sorry."

"It's fine." She raised a hand towards the moon, fingers splayed as if she were trying to capture the soft luminescence between her fingers. "Playing goddess doesn't feel so bad, either."

* * *

_A/N: And there we have it! First real attempt at writing the 'new' Titan Trio, so tell me how I did, if you want! Next chapter probably will be longer. _


	9. Misgivings

_A/N: Whew! It sure has been a very long time since I last updated this, but rejoice ― I'm back, gentlemen and ladies! _

* * *

_Chapter Six: Misgivings_

* * *

In the hours before the chase, during the time spent formulating plans for pursuit, the remaining Scouts were left temporarily stranded upon the Wall. The day was still light, brilliantly blue and virtually cloudless, yet no one knew what to say. Eren was gone. So was Ymir. More than half of their number had been knocked out in the explosion, thanks to the Colossus Titan. Commander Hange, Armin and Mikasa were among the wounded. Jean, Connie, and Krista had been lucky enough to be posted at the top of the Wall, but that was a small comfort in the wake of all that had happened.

To make matters worse, when Mikasa woke, she was inconsolable. The first thing she did was ask for Eren, plead with Armin, asking why they did not have horses, how long had she been unconscious. And when Armin told her, she became quiet. Motionless. She answered to no one, unless addressed by one their superiors. The rest of the cadets were too busy reeling from the horror of Bertholdt's and Reiner's unspeakable betrayal to take much notice of much else but the impending mission, but Armin was right by her side through it all. And Jean stood by while soldiers rushed to and fro, asking for water, trading words and rations.

More than all else, Jean noticed the distinct unease, the hopelessness that flickered across Armin's face when their eyes met, in their brief hour of restless respite. If Armin Arlert, the sharpest mind out of all of them, was at a loss for what to do, then what could be done?

* * *

Now it was early evening. The sun cast its dying light over the battlefield, painting the heavens in hues of red and orange and yellow, blending in a display of natural splendor. Beneath this, the situation had not yet lent itself in the favor of the Scouts. The Armored Titan was still in retreat, and they could do little but give chase. The field was vast, unbroken by trees, and seemed to stretch on forever. The air was clouded with dust kicked up under the cascade of a hundred, thundering hooves.

Here they all were, he, Connie, Sasha, Armin and Mikasa, huddled around the gap in Reiner's―it was still difficult to think of him as the Armored Titan―hands. If Jean looked closely, he could just make out the glint of Bertholdt's eye, wide with terror from within.

_Someone has to do this_, he had said. _Someone must take up the knife._

Mikasa approached the opening first. Jean had never seen her exhibit such intense emotion, and yet simultaneously appear to feel nothing at all. Her dark eyes were lifeless, entirely void of mercy or remorse. It was as if her very soul had vanished, leaving an empty shell in its place, unquestionable and virtually unstoppable. When she had declared her willingness to kill all who stood between her and her brother, Jean had no trouble believing her. Some might be prone to label this proclamation as mere insanity, and Jean was almost inclined to agree. If he had figured the situation to be at its worst, he could not have been more laughably misguided.

"Let him go, Bertholdt," Mikasa commanded.

There was no response. Before they could decide what they were supposed to do, there came a kind of uproar from the soldiers below, and they turned in the direction of the chaos.

"Get away from there, all of you!" someone bellowed. "Titans are coming!"

Jean and the others leapt back onto their own horses, joining the small formation to watch as a handful of men on horseback charged towards the Armored Titan. There were indeed Titans right behind them, perhaps a dozen, perhaps more, Jean could not tell at this distance. But he could see the Commander on his own mount, right at the front of the oncoming horde, arms raised and sword drawn, shouting orders to the soldiers flanking him. As a single unit they spread out, around and under their target, and the swarm of Titans followed, springing upon their kin without hesitation. Jean and the rest all watched in amazement as the creature dug its massive heels into the earth and with its whole weight, it pushed back against the rush of Titans, but it was hopeless: there were too many to resist at once. With no choices left, it opened its hands and blue crystal formed down its arms, from fingertips up to elbows. It bellowed, and drove its fists into flesh and bone, hard enough to send the smaller Titans flying and tear into the larger ones.

"Soldiers, to me!" Erwin thundered, turning back to address them. "This is the moment that will decide humanity's fate―now, forward!"

They charged. One of the Titans leapt up and caught Erwin. Horror struck, they all watched as the two continued their path through the air, Erwin dragged easily along between its jaws like a ragdoll, and someone cried out: "Commander!"

And despite the chaos, they all heard Erwin's voice.

"ADVANCE! ALL OF YOU! EREN'S RIGHT THERE! DO NOT STOP UNTIL YOU HAVE HIM!"

They scattered amongst the oncoming horde. Once or twice, Jean thought he saw a flash of green vanish by way of monstrous teeth or hands, and if he hadn't been so occupied with his grip on the reins he would have prayed to God that he was mistaken. But then they were through it, and he saw, clearly, Mikasa at the front, Armin flanking her. She leapt off of her horse, swords flashing, and shot towards the target.

The smaller, shriveled Titan―_Ymir!_―clinging to the Armored's shoulder lashed out, claws and teeth bared. Mikasa had to jump back to avoid the deadly offensive and as she shot back, Jean realised Ymir had never meant to strike her at all, but instead, her Titan's enormous, gnarled claws tore through the air, and Mikasa's cable snapped under the force―

Jean could only watch as she fell. Horror and, above all, a sense of purpose gripped him. He must catch her, but he was too far away. The knowledge was like a lead weight in his chest, and he spurred his horse onwards, faster. He knew he must be running the poor creature ragged, knew without caring, for he must get to her. But he was too slow. Another Titan got her first.

Mikasa jerked around when its massive hand closed around her, as if only just comprehending where she was. Jean was still too far to do anything, but close enough now that he could see, or at least, imagine, the terror in her dark eyes. The Titan's hand clenched around its prey, gradually, like it was taking its time and Mikasa screamed. It was a short sound, but in his state of terror, of awareness, it cut through the din like a whistle.

Jean thought, inexplicably, of Marco Bodt, and his lifeless body, and how countless others had followed. He'd witnessed corpses so many times that he noticed recurring traits, standing out like imperfections in a portrait. The smell and sight of blood became ingrained into his senses, just like the sharp contrast of rotting skin and the blue-ish grey of bone. There was always a glaze over the eyes of the dead, like they could see past the clouds and the sky itself and peer into whatever lay beyond. A stiffness in the limbs that Armin had identified as something called _rigor mortis_.

But she could not die. Not Mikasa.

He could hear someone else shouting, now. Jean didn't stop to wonder if it was his own voice that cried something brilliant in anger, something like _take your hands off her, you bastard_, and when he blinked he was in the air, tethered to the beast by his own wire, swords drawn, bright with crimson from where he'd slashed its eyes. His eyes locked onto Mikasa. She was falling freely, but he still had his ODM gear.

He forgot his blades, caught her a mere heartbeat before they hit the ground. Impact shocked him back to reality. They tumbled for a few seconds in the dirt, then the world righted itself. Horses and soldiers thundered past them. He was aware of Mikasa's departure from his arms, and then Armin was somehow beside them, barely able to keep her from running after the others.

Jean took over.

"LET ME GO!" Mikasa roared, fighting for all her worth against him. Jean was nearly impressed at the force he had to exert in order to restrain her.

"Get a hold of yourself!" he shouted at her. "You can't save him if you're dead, and you are not going to die!"

She ignored him completely, freeing herself of his arms, staggering to her feet, and took all of three steps before she cried out in pain, clutching her side. Jean caught her before she fell, half exasperated, half desperate.

"Listen to me!" he demanded. She growled in protest, but her breath was harsh and wet, labored. The fight was draining from her, not out of choice, Jean figured, but exhaustion. Fresh terror swirled within him. "Armin!" he screamed blindly to the air. "Armin, where are you?"

Armin whirled around, only a few feet from them.

"She's _hurt_," Jean said needlessly, holding her as tightly as he dared for fear that anything he did could somehow make it worse. Mikasa tried to move, but Jean would not let her go, not for anything.

"I'll help you," he muttered frantically, words hushed and shaking, like a prayer against her temple. "Please, let me help you." It was a foolish thing to say. This was no time to comfort her, not when they were surrounded by Titans and the promise of death. Yet here she was, latching on to the only living thing close to her, and it was he who held her, wounded in his arms. Mikasa did not reply, but her hands clutched him all the more tighter. Jean let out a shuddery sigh of relief. "Can you stand?" he asked. She nodded weakly. Together they rose, and Armin followed.

"I've got a horse," said Armin quickly.

"You can't―" Jean began, but Armin cut him off.

"We don't have time to argue! Do you want Eren back or not?"

Jean looked at Mikasa, who looked at Armin, who looked firmly at both of them.

They staggered over to Armin's mount, and Jean helped Mikasa up first before he joined her. He felt her arms come around his chest, and he grasped the reins tightly.

"I'll distract Bertholdt somehow," Armin yelled. "You wait for an opening! When you see it, don't hesitate to act on it!"

And with a quick jab to the horse's ribs, they were off.

Many Titans had already detached from the mass in favor of pursuing the men on horses. Perhaps they were Deviants, or perhaps they simply sensed a better opportunity for killing. The field was plunged into chaos; soldiers rode in circles around these straggling Titans, while others shot around on their maneuver gear, but Jean never paid enough attention to discern how many were killed.

He felt Mikasa's weight shift behind him, and when he twisted his head around she was leaning over the side of their mount, sword drawn.

"I'll cover you," she said fiercely. "Get to Reiner!"

He urged the horse onward. It broke into a gallop towards the Armored Titan, picking up speed. One of the Titans ― a Deviant, by the look of it ― broke away from the mass and shambled with unnatural speed towards them; he swerved leftwards to avoid it, Mikasa swung her weapon and the beast staggered, crashed to earth with a low-pitched, animalistic wail. It was not the first. Others followed, and though Jean didn't dare look back to confirm anything, he could imagine Mikasa spattered with the blood of the enemy, her sword flashing, blinding in the dying light of the setting sun. The monsters kept coming, but they were close to the heart of the fray, now.

"Armin!" Mikasa cried out suddenly. "He's up there, with Bertholdt!"

A retort sprang easily to Jean's mind ― _you're injured and dying won't solve anything, and how the hell can you tell from here_. But all he said was, "You're sure it's him?"

"Has to be."

Jean circled back, directing his steed through the chaos. "Can you reach him?"

She did not hesitate. "I have to."

Someone was howling. It was a man's voice, and Jean could not help but think of Bertholdt. Mikasa grabbed his shoulder. Jean had no time to ask what she was doing, and when he opened his mouth, she leapt off the horse.

"Mika―" he yelled, but she was gone, and he was alone. The sudden loss of weight disoriented him, and the horse more so. Swearing, he fought to control the panicking animal.

"Retreat!" was the order passed down between their ranks, and Jean turned to follow the sound of his fellows' voices, calling out to one another.

There, much to his relief, was Mikasa, Eren slung over the side of her horse, pinioned between her arm and the horse's body. It looked uncomfortable, but he had little time to dwell on his observation, because the soldiers behind him let out gasps and shouts as something massive flew above their heads and crashed to earth, sending a wave of dust over them. It took Jean a moment to understand what the thing was.

A Titan. The son-of-a-bitch was throwing Titans at them.

"Goddam you, Reiner!" he shouted, furious and hopeless. More shouts from behind, and a second Titan came hurtling towards them. Jean wheeled his mount around and took off blindly. Another soldier broke away from the confused group to get to him.

"Eren and Mikasa are back there!" Armin explained, gesturing frantically off to the distance, indicating a lone Titan and the little speck twirling around it. "We need to help them!"

Jean turned his horse in the direction he was pointing and the animal was probably going to die from exhaustion, but he did not care. Closer, closer he came to his destination. Someone screamed his name.

The ground around him was thrown into darkness and Jean's first thought was, absurdly enough, that the sun had gone out. Then came a noise like several cannons being fired at once, reverberating through his very bones, and the world was thrown off-kilter. He was falling, flying, one of the two, but his horse was somehow gone and he was in the air. He didn't remember jumping off. He saw the ground rushing forward to meet him, wondered if he was going to die. And then he blacked out.

* * *

"―coming round, I think."

Armin?

"Jean? Can you hear me?"

He tried to speak, nod, anything, but couldn't. He just kind of moaned vaguely.

"Oh, thank God," the same voice sighed in relief. "That's one less thing to worry about."

Jean passed out again.

* * *

The second time he opened his eyes he found darkness. Jean was confused, until he realised he was staring up at the night sky.

"You're awake?" A woman's voice, this time.

"Mikasa?" he asked feebly.

"She's alive."

Alive. The word did not reassure him. He wanted to ask about the others, Armin, Connie, Krista and Sasha and everyone, but his brain wasn't cooperating.

So Jean drifted back into unconsciousness.

* * *

He woke up again and this time he noticed that he was on a cart. He tried to sit up but his head felt heavy. He was too aware of his discomfort to pass out again.

No one came over to him this time. So he stared up at the night sky and waited for the ringing in his ears to cease. It never went away completely, but when it waned enough he forced himself to sit up.

The feeling was coming back into his limbs and brought with it pain. He shut his eyes, though it made little difference.

"Jean?"

It was Armin, again.

"Where are we?"

"On the Wall."

"How many of us are dead?"

"I'm not sure. Commander Erwin is still alive, and Mikasa, too."

Jean opened his eyes and saw Armin in the torchlight. He sat up a little straighter. "Where is she?" Armin wouldn't look at him. Jean turned quickly to face him, wincing. "Armin, where is she?"

"She's fine, Jean. You don't need to worry about her."

"Then why are you talking about her as if she's dead?"

Armin looked him straight in the eyes and there was quiet understanding. "See for yourself," was all he said, indicating the cart in front of them.

Jean turned around and saw the shape of the cart, but couldn't make out any details.

"Does Eren know?"

Armin nodded. Jean wondered if it would be prudent to try and speak with her. She was terribly injured, after all, and he wasn't exactly in pristine condition himself. None of them were.

He looked to Armin. The other boy just sighed, world-weary, and said: "She's awake."

* * *

"You stopped me." There was nothing accusatory in her tone, no ill-will in her dark eyes. Just fact, plain and simple.

"You were about to die," Jean admitted. "I didn't want any more blood on my hands, if I could help it. I couldn't live with myself." A half-truth. The fact that she was living now was more to him than she knew. He wondered if Eren felt the same. "I'm sorry, Mikasa," he said quietly.

She frowned. Shook her head, though the effort clearly pained her.

"Not your fault."

He wanted to protest, but as she looked at him he knew it was hopeless to argue. This had not been Trost; he had not been the one leading soldiers to their deaths.

"You kept your head," she murmured. "I didn't."

Jean swallowed his bitter retort. He'd kept his head as surely as she'd kept hers.

"Did I?"

"You reached out to the enemy. Talked to them like family." She grimaced, and he wanted to hold her hand, offer whatever reassurance he was able. "You did your part." She tried to sit up, gasped in pain and lay back down.

"Oi," he said quickly. "Don't push yourself."

"Not pushing myself," she hissed. "Let me―"

Jean almost laughed. She was just as stubborn as her brother.

"I can help you up, if you'd like."

"I don't need―back me up, Armin," she snapped.

"Sorry, Mikasa. Jean's right about this one."

She let her head fall back, grumbled something under her breath and was still. With a sigh, Jean turned to Armin and asked: "Has she always been like that?"

Armin just smiled wanly.

* * *

They met up with the rest of their group in due course.

"How many people died because of me?" were Eren's first words to the company.

Jean found it exceedingly hard to not roll his eyes. _Does he always have to be such a martyr about everything?_ He looked around, reassessing their numbers, brow knitted in concentration.

"When we left, I think there were about a hundred of us, including the Military Police. Most of them are gone. I've only seen forty of our soldiers so far, and half of them aren't even up and walking. The Commander lost an arm, Mikasa..." Jean trailed off. He didn't want to think about it. "You saw how she is." Eren looked even more destitute, if it was possible. "So yes, we lost plenty of seasoned soldiers to get you back."

"We didn't suffer any losses on the way back, though," Armin added. "The Titans ignored us completely and kept running for Reiner after you screamed." He regarded Eren thoughtfully. Jean and Connie turned to him. Eren looked uncomfortable. "The Female Titan could do something similar, remember?" Armin pointed out. "There was that awful shriek in the forest, and then all those Titans came charging in and ignored us. Who's to say you―"

Eren raised his hands.

"I don't know. Everything was going crazy when that happened, I―"

"Are you saying he manipulated the Titans into attacking Bertholdt and Reiner?" asked Jean sharply. "How?"

"Wait, I said I don't―" Eren continued to protest, but Connie had joined in as well.

"That's why they changed direction! We would've all been dead if you hadn't screamed!"

"Excuse me," Jean said. "I thought I heard you say that he_ screamed_."

"But he did, Jean!" Connie insisted. "He let out this awful noise, and then all the Titans stopped what they were doing and made a beeline for this big one. They all jumped up on it like they did with Reiner and tore it apart."

"And after that," Armin added, "he yelled something at Bertholdt and Reiner, and the Titans stopped what they were doing and went after them instead. Ymir joined the two of them, as well."

There was a pause while they attempted to soak this new information in.

"I'm not sure what it all means, frankly," said Jean. "But if what Armin and Connie say is true―"

"It IS!" interjected Connie excitedly. Jean ignored this.

"―if it's true, that you're able to...control Titans, or whatever you want to call it, then I expect we're in need of you, now more than ever. So going forward, I'd try and make your actions mean something."

Eren looked at him as if he'd just proclaimed something utterly insane. Then his expression eased, and he sighed.

"You sure got preachy after joining the Scouts, didn't you?"

Jean snorted, inwardly relieved at this return to normalcy. "At least I'm still not an indecisive whiner!"

"He's right, though," said Connie seriously, "about the whole 'preachy' thing. It's pretty weird."

"And you still have the look of a criminal," Armin chimed in.

Jean finally gave into temptation. "Look, I saved your precious Mikasa, all right? Can I at least have some gratitude?"

Connie sniggered like a ten year-old. "Don't you mean your precious Mikasa?"

"Shut it, Springer!"

"Thanks, Jean," said Eren quietly.

"For what?" said Jean, thoroughly confused at this change in temperament.

"You're right about what you said. About making my actions mean something." He stared down at his hand, curled into a fist as he spoke. "And I will. When I seal the hole in Wall Maria and we catch Bertholdt and Reiner, I'll make sure Mister Hannes and the others won't have died for nothing."

Jean nodded, not sure what to say or, indeed, if he wanted to say anything. Fortunately, their attention was diverted by Armin.

"Krista?" They all turned and saw her. She came forward, unsteady on her feet. "You shouldn't―" Armin started, but she cut him off.

"No. That's not my name anymore." She straightened up, and even though she wavered where she stood, her voice rang with authority. "My name is Historia Reiss." She looked to Eren while the others stared at her in complete befuddlement. "We need to leave for the other side of this wall as soon as possible. We can work together."

Eren was a little more understanding than the rest of them.

"Krista, we've just gone through a battle. Shouldn't you rest? It's―"

"Don't worry about me!" she snapped, "There are more important matters to attend to, don't you understand? They've taken her!"

Jean glanced at the others, already lost. Her?

"If we don't go now, it'll already be too late!" Stumbling, Krista grabbed Eren by the shirt. "You can control them, can't you? Do something! Make them stop!"

"That's enough, Lenz." A new voice interrupted her. They looked up for the source. It was a woman, with light hair and glasses. She placed a hand on the girl's shoulder.

Krista pushed her away. "I told you, I'm not―"

"Hang on," Eren muttered, much to the woman's disgruntlement. Turning back to Krista, he said, "You know, even after we were taken by Reiner and Bertholdt, Ymir wouldn't stop talking about how she wanted to keep you safe. She must have cared terribly about you to do what she did."

Krista looked up at him, defiant and hurt.

"And if my life mattered so dearly to her, then why'd run off with them of her own free will? Was I worthy enough to abandon?"

There was a silence. She let go of Eren and fell to her knees as if stunned.

"I still don't get why Ymir did that." Connie muttered.

"Sure. She was a mystery to the end." said Jean, wishing Connie would, for once, have the sense to keep his mouth shut.

"She―she swore we'd l-live for ourselves..." Krista whispered. "And she...she lied to me, didn't she? The coward." She grit her teeth. "I'll never forgive her."

"Krista?" Jean asked hesitantly. "This isn't like you." Inwardly he kicked himself for stating such an obvious point. God, that was stupid. Krista seemed to be of the same mind. She whirled round, eyes blazing with a kind of madness, as if she intended to seize the nearest blade from a soldier's belt and run him through with it. But then she did something much more frightening.

Her face trembled, then split into a terrible smile and she cackled, voice harsh and hysterical, her whole body wracked with derision.

"You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you?" she cried, turning to face them all, "_I'm not the girl you remember!_ Krista was nothing but a role I was entrusted with to better my safety! _This_ is who I truly am!" She looked at them all, beside herself with rage and hysteria. "Not quite what you expected? I'm sorry to disappoint you all with my―"

"That's enough." The woman from before laid a hand firmly upon her shoulder. "You need rest, cadet."

Historia was led away without another word.

"The hell was that about?" Connie asked finally.

Jean didn't know what to say. He shook his head.

"Let's go." he muttered.

* * *

The ride to the outpost, like most of their travels, was a lengthy one, if not light. Jean was in charge of driving their horse forward, accompanied by Armin and Sasha in a small, rickety wagon. As far as he knew, Eren, Mikasa, Krista―or rather, Historia―and the others had volunteered to take the wagon in front. On the one hand, if they were somehow unlucky enough to be set upon by one of the many enemies they'd racked up over the past month, there was always the comforting thought that Eren's wagon would be the first to be attacked. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when he remembered that Mikasa was also in the wagon. He felt his elevated mood die immediately, then realized how ridiculous he was being.

_She's the strongest out of all of us, _he chastised himself._ Get a hold of yourself._

Besides, this was certainly not the worst group he could have been assigned to. While it left him to deal with Sasha and her fierce tirades on hunting, he at least had Armin with him. If Jean was entirely honest with himself, his company was more reassuring than most.

When they arrived, Jean drew the horse to a stop and glanced over at the outpost. There was not much to see. Nothing new, anyway. The forest surrounded them, sheltering a clearing. In the middle of this was a modest cabin, complete with watchtower and stable.

"Come on, you lot!" called Armin somewhere from the back of the wagon. "We ought to unload!"

Jean slipped out first, gratefully. His legs felt stiff after sitting for so long.

"You like potatoes, don't you Sasha?" asked Jean. "Because we've got all the potatoes your heart could desire."

Sasha crouched, jumped off the wagon. "I dunno what you're talking about."

"Well, I'm sure anyone in the 104th would be more than happy to remind you." She ignored this. Jean followed suit. "Here." He handed her a crate.

Sasha grunted, straining to keep herself upright. "It's heavy!"

"Sure it is," said Jean. "We've got our food in these things, and if they're contaminated, we starve. So be careful, will you?"

Sasha made a sound of irritation. "I don't see why we can't hunt."

"That's illegal," said Armin, who had been straightening out some crates in the back. "You'd get sentenced to exile at the very least. Most likely they'd have a public hanging or something similar."

Sasha looked up at him suspiciously. "Since when did you become the expert on the law around here?"

Armin shrugged. "I read up on it. Helps pass the time."

There was a pause while Sasha looked from him to the crate in her arms, then huffed.

"Fine, I won't steal anything." Under her breath, she added, "Probably."

"What was that?" asked Jean sharply.

"Nothing."

As they entered the cabin, they ran into Eren, who was wearing a dishrag upon his head in a peculiar way that nearly resembled their Captain.

"Did you get the chance to clean before you came in here?" This was his way of greeting them. Jean couldn't help but feel a little disgusted. Of all the pointless things to inquire about, that was his main concern?

"How were we supposed to know to do that? We've been a bit occupied, in case you haven't noticed," he snapped.

"But―you can't just come in here! I'm not done cleaning yet! Captain Levi'll―"

"Here's a bright idea," Jean interrupted irritably. "Why don't you shut your trap about the Captain for a minute and make yourself useful? We've still got half a dozen of these crates outside." He tipped his head to indicate the direction. "So if you'd kindly stop talking to me like my mother, we could use an extra hand."

It was hard to tell whether Eren was more insulted at this comparison or his blatant disregard for the Captain's wishes. Whatever the case, Jean felt slightly better about his situation...at least, until Mikasa came in with a bundle of firewood under one arm and an axe in her hand, Historia just behind her.

"What in God's name are you DOING?" Armin exclaimed. "Your ribs are broken, do you have any idea what level of damage you could―"

"I don't want to fall behind," said Mikasa simply. "It doesn't hurt, anyway."

"Don't bother with it, Armin," said Eren wearily. "She wouldn't listen to me, and I doubt she'll be any more inclined now. I caught her doing sit-ups this morning."

Both Armin and Jean rounded on Eren for entirely different reasons.

"For heaven's sake, you are not a wild animal!" Armin exploded, chasing after Mikasa in a fashion that reminded Jean of his own mother. "You need _rest_, not this, it'll only aggravate the wound..."

"You were _spying_ on her?" said Jean, once Armin and Mikasa were out of earshot.

"_What_?" Eren responded incredulously.

"Anyone else feel like we're recruits again?" Sasha cut in. "I know I do."

Jean stared at her in disbelief. "Yes, because our superiors would undoubtedly entrust something as important as the safety of Historia and this prat—" Eren glowered at him "—to mere rookies when there are _legions_ of soldiers far older and much more capable than us. Remind me, why were we chosen for Levi's squad?"

Sasha let her hand hover over a scant loaf of bread on the end table that no one had touched. "Isn't it obvious? We're just that good."

Armin came back into the room, fuming.

"What is that?" he demanded suddenly, gesturing to Sasha. "In your bag?"

"Definitely not a loaf of bread," said Sasha. Armin made a funny hissing noise, like an angry goose, and the others were far more occupied finding entertainment in his irritation than the bread found in her satchel.

* * *

It was nearly an hour after Connie's and Captain Levi's expected time for arrival, and they were still nowhere to be seen. There was a general unease that pervaded the little cabin like a dread malady; the small band of cadets was ill-tempered and wary as it was, and they did not need another catastrophe to set them off.

So things only got more complicated when Sasha went missing. It occurred, as most inconvenient incidents did, without the slightest indication of there being anything amiss beforehand. At first, no one noticed her absence but Jean, who was subsequently called a lot of things, the nicest of which involved _being paranoid_. But as another hour passed, the rest of the Scouts were forced to conclude that Sasha simply wasn't anywhere around the premises.

Jean went around the cabin searching for her, enlisting the help of Armin, who all but leapt at the opportunity to do something – because Jean would not be caught dead asking Jaeger for anything – and at last, they found Historia, but as it turned out she was not at all helpful.

"Where's Sasha?" he asked.

"I thought you knew," Historia said.

"If I did, I'd tell you," he said, a little more testily.

"Then what are you asking me for?" she replied. Jean glared at her. She turned back to her task without another word.

"You could ask someone else," suggested Armin. "And you're really taking this out of proportion."

Jean let out a bark of laughter. "And God _forbid_ I'm the one taking something out of proportion."

Armin just stared at him, unmoved by this outburst.

"We have all our horses in the stables," Historia interjected. "She can't have gotten far."

"That's a lovely sentiment, really, but it still doesn't give us an inkling of where the hell she's gone off to!" Jean snapped at her.

"We'll have to search for her," said Armin simply. "Unless you've got any alternatives?"

Much to his annoyance, Jean thought on the suggestion and found that he didn't.

* * *

Seeing as Mikasa was still injured, and Eren and Historia were top priority, Jean was more or less alone in volunteering to go search for their missing comrade. Despite Armin's reassurance that they'd be close by, watching the skies for a signal, Jean still felt incredibly tense.

The forest was a lot less inviting during the evening. Every indistinct _snap_ of a twig underfoot or hiss of the wind in the trees had Jean rushing to defend himself, reaffirming his grip on the holster of his blade. He wished he'd thought to bring a gun along; his flare was only as good as the surroundings allowed, and the trees weren't exactly thin here.

He would have never had to do any of this if Sasha hadn't got up and left without the slightest of explanations, he thought furiously. Would this stream of idiotic happenings never end? First Jaeger, then Historia and the others, and now this.

An outburst of salvo caught him off guard. Jean spun around, ducking into the shadow of a tree, flare gun held tightly in hand, half-raised in preparation. Next came voices, alarmed and shouting to one another amidst more gunfire. And then, just as quickly as it had started, the commotion stopped. Jean looked around wildly for any signs of life, but no one came rushing through the undergrowth to apprehend or warn him. The smell of gunpowder graced his nostrils and he held his breath, not daring to move.

Then he saw the figure in the trees. More precisely, he did not see it, but detected a soft swishing in the canopy above him. He stopped, and his blood ran cold. He would have no time to run. The presence in the trees moved first, unaffected by fear. It swooped down, collided with him, full force, and he cried out, but was cut short when said figure drove something hard into his stomach and he was silenced, gasping in pain.

His attacker pushed him down onto the earth, positioned so that its knees were pressed upon his elbows.

"You're going to wake the whole forest!" It was a girl's voice, and a familiar one at that. Jean's first impulse was to snap at her.

"You could have killed me!"

"You scared me half to death!" she retorted.

"You're the one who snuck out to hunt wild animals or whatever it is you―"

The back of his head hit the earth, not enough to hurt, but enough to get him to stop, and her hand clamped over his mouth.

"I'm not hunting wild animals, you ass," snarled Sasha. "I was trailing a group of men, who, for your information, were not dressed in a manner that might indicate they're members of any known military body and ALSO happened to be carrying guns, but I'm sure that's of no interest to you―"

"All right, I get the point! Will you shut up and tell me more about the men?"

Sasha huffed. "Can we talk about this out of firing range? I'd prefer my face remain intact."

Jean glared at her for a few seconds, and she glared right back. She removed her hand.

"Fine," he growled.

* * *

The others were undoubtedly quite surprised to find Jean in one piece, and even more to see Sasha trailing behind him. Her story put all previous aggravations to rest.

According to Sasha, the men were not very suspicious at first glance. Their clothes were simple, much like their own, but they all had hats, rifles and maneuver gear. They were also quite relaxed, and from this, she assumed they had been at their posts for a good while — at least, until the impromptu skirmish. But Sasha was adamant in her insistence that she had not been the one to begin the attack; rather, she had merely been a witness to it.

"Were the men looking for you?" asked Mikasa.

"I dunno if they were looking for anything ― it was more like they were standing guard."

That was something to think about.

"Do you think the Captain and Connie might have been the ones that started it?" asked Historia.

"Not necessarily," said Armin. They all looked to him. It was the first time he had spoken after Sasha had returned. "There are plenty of organised criminals around, what with all these recent food shortages."

"And what kind of robbers would be able to hold their own against men with guns and maneuver gear?" Eren asked.

"You'd be surprised what men are willing to do when they're desperate," said Historia.

"Look," said Eren impatiently. "Even if it was Captain Levi they were shooting at, I expect he'll be fine. They have weapons as well."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," said Armin grimly. "Just because they're not dressed in proper uniforms doesn't mean they aren't trained. They could just as easily be the King's men, and we'd never know it."

"Armin, this isn't helping," said Jean.

Armin sighed. "I'm just being realistic, Jean."

"Then what do you think about all this?"

"Honestly? I think we should ask the Captain when he comes back."

* * *

As fate would have it, Captain Levi returned within the hour, along with Connie, Commander Hange and a few other soldiers that they came to know as the new squad.

"There was a bit of a commotion on the way back," said Levi, upon being asked for an explanation on their delay. "Nothing our group couldn't handle."

Sasha looked uncomfortable.

They all met at one of the larger tables to eat, and Levi ran a finger over its surface before he joined them. He was quiet. Then he looked over at them all. "Is this really what you consider clean?"

Eren cringed, and Jean suppressed a grin. Levi ignored this. "Regardless of your shoddy job, we've more important matters at hand. Armin—" Armin looked up, alert and slightly restless. "—I believe you mentioned something about cutting our travel time to Wall Maria? Explain it again."

The boy's expression brightened. "Well, sir, it was actually quite simple…"

* * *

_A/N II: Alas, that's all for now! Anyone care to take a guess as to who the mysterious fellows with guns were? I'll give you a hint: what were they carrying…?_


	10. Retribution

_A/N: Hey, everyone! Sorry for the long wait; let's save some words and get this plot train a'movin', shall we?_

* * *

Chapter Seven – Retribution

* * *

Eren woke on a spare bed. The sun was still out, but he could tell it was no longer morning.

He looked around; no one was there. Looking induced an ache in his head, so he closed his eyes again and without much effort, fell back into the void between sleep and dreaming.

He did not know for how long he had drifted before the sound of the door jolted him back to reality. Footsteps in the room and he opened his eyes again.

"Ah, you're awake," said a man's voice. Eren moved his head so he could see who it was and found Moblit. His mind was buzzing and his body had yet to catch up. "Do you feel well enough to talk?" Moblit asked.

Eren nodded slowly. Moblit walked back over to the doorway.

"I'll call the others," he said upon departing.

In a matter of minutes, Mikasa, Commander Hange and Captain Levi were in the room as well.

"How long was I out for?" Eren asked.

"About a day," Commander Hange said. "I'm glad you've recovered, at any rate. Mikasa probably won't be as inclined to slice me to shreds now."

At the mention of her name, Mikasa's attention fixed on her, honed and unamused.

Hange cleared her throat. "Anyways, do you have any recollection of the experiments we ran?"

Eren thought about it and found his mind was strangely blank.

"No," he said, finally. "I don't remember a thing." His spirits teetered on the edge of sinking as he asked, tentatively, "What about the hardening?"

"Unfortunately, we observed no such phenomenon from your Titan."

Eren tried not to appear too disheartened. "Nothing at all?"

Commander Hange shook her head. "We checked to see if anything was left of your Titan afterwards, but it was gone."

Eren couldn't look at any of them. "What happened to me?" he asked of his hands. "I remember the plan, but nothing about the results."

And for the next few minutes, the Commander filled him in. When she was done he felt worse still.

"So, at the very least," he said, "we know that we still can't begin the operation to retake Wall Maria." _And all of this,_ he thought bitterly, _is happening because I couldn't harden my Titan body._

"Yes," said Captain Levi. "It was a real disappointment to us, and everyone's been miserable today because of it. We can't let any more time go to waste." His scowl deepened. "What's next? Titans might rise up out of the ground. Maybe they'll come raining down from the sky, and we'll still be a pack of toothless prey animals."

"Sir, Eren did everything he could," said Mikasa defensively.

"I know that," replied Levi, "and what would you have me say? What does it matter if he_ tried his best_? Right now, we're no closer to closing the hole in Wall Maria than we were yesterday, or the day before that."

"But you can't just blame Eren for—"

"Relax, Ackerman. I'm not blaming him for anything. I'm just being an arse. Assessing our shortcomings and bitching about our situation are both important rituals."

Mikasa seemed to decide it unwise to argue the point any further and sat back, somewhat grudgingly.

Levi continued. "Take a whiff. Inside these Walls, the air's always stunk like trash. It's been that way for over a hundred years. I didn't notice it until just a few years ago; after all, I've sucked in this stink ever since the day I was born. I saw it as normal. But the air I breathed outside the Walls was different." As he said this, there was a quiet change that overtook him, a flash of life in his eyes. He sat a little straighter, spoke coolly, but clearly. "Life out there is hell. But it's got something the Walls don't."

Eren took a chance, looked up at them all and found them looking right back.

"What Levi's trying to say," Hange concluded, "is that we learned you can't harden your Titan body. And that's a success." She smiled. "Not only that, but we were able to achieve a consensus of your general versatilities and limitations. We'll probably end up paying in the end for letting off those signal flares, but our job now is to make the best of these results." She caught Levi's eye. "That's what you meant, right, Captain?"

"Sure," Levi said.

As they continued to talk at length, Eren let himself think.

_At this rate, I still won't be able to do everything that is required of me, but…knowing this might be the start of something new. For now, I'm ignorant and powerless._

For now. But there was something else that was troubling him, more than the fleeting disgrace of failure. Eren forced himself to think back to what Commander Hange had told him before.

_"It was when you were writing on the ground to communicate with us. You had been telling us that you didn't know how to harden yourself, when, inexplicably, you wrote: 'What my father did to me'. You wrote some more after that, but nothing we could make out." She'd frowned thoughtfully. "You looked very upset afterwards. Do you remember any of that?"_

Eren hadn't remembered then, and still didn't.

_Why did I think of my father during the experiments? Would I have been able to focus longer if I hadn't? And why can't I remember anything to begin with?_

There were no answers. It was torture, to be dragged along on the path towards one half-truth only to find more questions and no conclusion in sight. It had always been this way, Eren realised, he just hadn't thought about the fact up until now…. At least, not in this manner. _Where are you now, Father? Are you living somewhere else? Or are you already…?_

He felt the cold weight of the tiny key at his breast and pulled it free from the confinement of his shirt, gazing at it, as he'd done countless times before, wondering once more the truth of its purpose.

And without warning, without a prompt or any logical explanation, there came into his mind the image of a woman. So powerful was the force of his recollection that in the instant she appeared, Eren saw her, and only her, and the world around him was swallowed up to accommodate the unfamiliar room behind her. He tried to gasp but it was as if his lungs had turned to ice. _Historia?_ he thought, bewildered, before he corrected himself. It couldn't be Historia. This woman was much older, with dark hair and blue eyes. Who was she? There was a name, right on the tip of his tongue. He had the strangest feeling he knew her from somewhere, but it wasn't Historia, and there was no way it could be….

"Mother?" he croaked. She could not hear him, surely. This was her memory, not his. He continued to take in the scene before him. The woman was brushing her hair, and Eren noticed, for the first time, that he was staring directly at her reflection. There was no one else in the room but her, and her alone, so that must mean…. Was he in her head? How was something so far-fetched even possible?

The woman blinked, and the scene flickered like an open flame trapped under glass. _No!_ Panicked, Eren tried desperately to cling to the memory but knew, somehow, he would not be able to. His skull rang with pain as the woman and the room swam before his eyes, building into a crescendo until he could bear it no more. His throat unstuck as he shut his eyes and came back with a gasp of shock, surprise, bolting upright with a hand clapped to his forehead. Someone caught him before he sat up completely.

"You're still weak. Don't push yourself."

Mikasa, again. The pain was already fading. He took his hand away from his face, opened his eyes and saw the room, Commander Hange and Captain Levi. Everything was normal.

…So what had he just been thinking?

Commander Hange was talking again, but Eren barely heard her as she talked about the Wallists, their significance and what must be done. He was exhausted, suddenly.

They left him alone with Moblit, who sat down briefly to repack a flat, rectangular board and his supplies into a small briefcase.

"Sir?" Eren asked, forcing himself to sit up. Moblit looked at him. "What is that?"

"This is my sketch of you after we pulled you from your Titan." Moblit looked at him. "Do you remember anything?"

"No, sir." Moblit was about to turn away when Eren asked abruptly: "Wait, can I...can I see the picture?"

It was a weird question, but he could not help himself. Moblit regarded him curiously. "I don't see why not. Here."

Eren took the paper from him, and the graphite was smeared here and there but the image remained decipherable. Eren stared at it, entranced by the image therein for reasons he could not discern. Moblit's depiction had rendered him into some strange and fearsome being, blinded by tendons, nearly unrecognisable. He became distantly aware that Moblit was talking to him.

"Huh?" he mumbled, tearing his eyes away.

"The sketch," Moblit said, smiling slightly. "I'll need it back."

"Oh. Of course, sir," Eren said, and handed it over, somewhat reluctantly. Moblit advised him to rest and left shortly. Eren wasn't sure if he could. His head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes, trying to relax, but his mind was still alert and buzzing.

He wondered how Annie had felt when she transformed, found himself wishing she was here despite everything that had transpired. There was so much he wanted to ask her. The misery of her betrayal had left him long ago. Hurt faded into acceptance, confliction into apathy. Not because he was cruel or incapable of feeling, Eren reasoned, but because she was just another loss, another death. There would be no time to mourn—not in this life. He was not surprised, how little he felt in her absence. There was nothing left inside him but a calm, quiet emptiness.

Days after Stohess, he'd wondered if, in the act of warning her so, he'd done right by her. Wondered if she would have done the same for him, hoped, perhaps, that she was not as cold and unreachable as the years had led him to believe.

One of the many vexing things about trying to understand Annie was his own lack of validity. Reiner and Bertholdt, regardless of their words and actions beforehand, had revealed themselves, irrevocably, for what they truly were; and as the harbingers of humanity's despair, they were easy to hate. Annie was not as clear-cut in her motives, and he could not make up his mind about what he should feel. There was naught to guide him but memories, the majority of which were probably lies, anyway. She was surely as treacherous as her companions, and still Eren told himself there was more to her than this, he just wasn't thinking about it in the right way….

Frustrated, he would turn these precious few scenes over in his head fruitlessly until their colours washed out with age and attrition, trying to understand, because he had known her—or thought he had known her—and she was not as simple as a cold-blooded killer. For what killer would spare Armin and Mikasa? What heartless creature could murder so many of their soldiers without hesitation and still look him in the eye?

Eren felt a twist in his gut, but he ignored it. Hands clenched roughly together, bone against bone and his thoughts cycled back in anger to the three of them. How could Bertholdt and Reiner pretend? How _dare_ they?

Despite his fatigue, Eren felt another swell of burning hatred rise in him. But it was short-lived; he knew it would do him no good to dwell like this. He redirected his thoughts firmly back to Annie, traversing down his line of memories, trying to recall anything that might help him. He'd never seen her converse with anyone before, certainly not of her own free will. Never did she speak to them with the same openness he shared with Armin or Mikasa. Yet she had possessed moments, fleeting and few. Over the years she grew older, colder, an enigma all her own. But she'd taught him how to fight, she'd let him befriend her…at least, to some degree. And she'd spared him and Mikasa and Armin when she could just as easily have killed them all.

And he found himself, as he sometimes did, thinking back to the moment of her downfall; that dull, grey afternoon when they were on opposite sides, and the picture of her as she stared up at him, dumbfounded. Annie always appeared smaller in his mind's eye, somehow; more than ever while cloaked in vulnerability. She'd averted her eyes like he was a disapproving parent, disregarding his scrutiny, voice trembling as she spoke to the grimy wall. There was no edge to her words when she called him a fool, no hostility in her stature. When she'd glanced up at him again there was only disbelief written across her features. It felt absurd. Annie was unfazeable in all his memories of her.

But not here. Here, she weakened a little when he'd leant down, uncertainly, closing the distance between them. She'd barely breathed when he pulled away, looking past him, somewhere else beyond the dirty walls of the alleyway. He had cupped her face because he hadn't known what to say, what to do, only that he wanted to help her, wanted, with a potency he rarely entertained, to keep her with him for a little while. And she had not objected. Indulged his wish, he liked to think, then and now, because it had meant more to her than it did to him. He could give her nothing but his word, and that had been enough. It had to be enough….

Eren could not go on from here. He would not allow himself that pain. It was easier in the end, he supposed, to follow in the footsteps of those around him and simply dismiss his musings as nothing more than the remnants of his desperation to believe in her, blinding him to the truth. Easier, than thinking they could ever cast aside their roles and fight together, live and die together. It was far easier to lock away the grief ripping at his insides as he had done a hundred times before, to acknowledge the dying and the dead without ever forgetting their efforts, to honour lost friends, family and loved ones. But he could not bring himself to forget what he had witnessed; Annie, confused and frightened and almost hopeful as she stared up at him, as if whatever spell of normalcy between them had lifted, and she could see him for the first time….

Her hope was what bothered him, now, more than anything.

Alone and idle, on horseback or wagons or at rest, outside or indoors, staring up at the heavens or the wall, or whatever existed in front of him, he wondered if this was part of love. Wondered sometimes, if he had really ever loved her at all, or a mistaken perception. Wondered, until he was sick of thinking about her, and still he could not let it go. Eren never confided in his peers; the last thing he wanted was to prove his emotional instability to them. Better to let them think whatever the hell they wanted, and sort things out himself.

Sometimes he would wonder why she had ever thought to hide away in the crystal, which of course was an easy answer: she was afraid. But Annie was tough. Inhuman, nearly. What had she to fear? And in the end, he came to a conclusion; if—no, _when_ they cracked apart the crystal separating her from the rest of the world, he would give her a chance to answer him.

For now, it was time to move on.

* * *

_a/n: Hey, remember when Annie was still a central figure to this story's plot? I sure do!_


	11. Ebullition

_Chapter Seven-point-Five: Ebullition _

* * *

The new Queen had been instated only a week ago, yet in the aftermath of the Scouts' overwhelming victory, now was still a time for celebration.

Rumours abounded of the Titan that had tried to scale the Walls at Orvud―twice the scale of the Colossus, as some papers claimed, and lacking a proper facial structure, allowing one to see inside the massive chasm of the skull, while others insisted that the appearance was more akin to that of a burning corpse, charred and unrecognisable, surrounded by hellish fire―yet no one could decide and the legend grew. But all could agree on one thing; that the courage of the Scouts and their Queen's sharp tactics could no longer be denied.

For many, it was a welcome reprieve from the horrors of war and uncertainty. For men like Dieter, it was simply another day on the job. Another day in this dark cavern of a cell. He supposed he should be grateful; little happened in the chamber where Annie Leonhardt was kept safe, and though she had many enemies, it had been a full month since her entrapment, and the people had more or less moved on towards heralding their Queen.

But there was an eeriness to this place. Always, there was a glow that accompanied them like gentle blue firelight, and he had more than once considered the necessity for torches before he caught himself—what was he thinking?

Lately, somewhere in the gloom, it had begun to drip. The sound was barely audible, more of a whisper. Dieter still remembered the first time this had happened, and thought himself to be going mad.

He'd turned to Keiji, asked: "Did you hear something?"

"Hm? Like what?"

Dieter had frowned, looking up at the ceiling. "Like running water."

"What do you expect? Rainwater runs in through the cracks all the time. It makes for a nice ghost story, that's all."

"It hasn't rained in days," Dieter insisted.

Keiji had advised him to get some sleep if he was imagining things. But then it had happened again―and still it continued through the next day. Dieter asked the other guards if they had heard the sound, and some had denied it, but others had come forward.

When Dieter presented this new information to Keiji, he was still pretty chary, but Dieter could not help but think that he had finally succeeded in reaching him.

And the third day was when Keiji noticed something new. At first he only brushed it off as Dieter's fancies affecting his head. But when he felt the cold emanate through the leather of his boots he could ignore it no longer.

"The hell...?" he muttered, glancing down at his feet. A small pool of liquid, thicker than oil or water, was slowly expanding out from the heels of his boots. "Dieter," Keiji said sharply, but Dieter was already looking upon the crystalline body behind them, a look of total horror upon his face. Keiji swore under his breath and followed the other man's gaze. Dieter only continued to stare in disbelief at the sight before them.

Annie Leonhardt's crystal was glowing faintly, but it always had done so—and this was not what drew the attention of both men. The unknown liquid continued to drip from the structure, like perspiration around a glass, letting off a thin haze of steam and obscuring her features.

"...Oh my God," Dieter whispered finally. Heart pounding violently, Keiji raised his shaking arm and rubbed away the condensation. Contact with the crystal did not burn; it felt like dried wax, the temperature of freshly-fallen snow. He could see now that she was breathing, faintly.

Keiji blinked, tried to speak but couldn't. He steeled himself. "Get Commander Hange and the others down here, now."

Dieter bolted for the entrance while Keiji staggered back, already reaching for his blades.


End file.
